


the heist

by Hydref



Category: Haikyuu!!, Prison Break
Genre: Drugs, Enemies to Friends, Frenemies, Friends to Lovers, Graphic Description, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Organized Crime, Power Play, Prison, Religion, Violence, Yakuza
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-10-29 09:15:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17805257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hydref/pseuds/Hydref
Summary: On the sixteenth of November 2006, the head of the Nekoma Syndicate is arrested and exiled to Karasuno where he faces imminent death in the form of capital punishment. Akaashi Keiji's terminal debt haunts him, believing it will one day kick the stool from beneath his feet and leave him strung from a noose in the cold solidarity of his life as a hitman. Yaku Morisuke barters Akaashi's now curable debt in return for the release and escape of Kuroo Tetsurou. If he wasn't so desperate to escape the tar he was sinking in Akaashi would've considered whether or not the deadly experience that was Karasuno was worse than the situation he was already in.alternatively: the prison break au no one asked for, in which akaashi is gruelingly tasked to break pain-in-the-ass kuroo-san and his simpleton bunk-mate out of a maximum security prison





	1. Act I

**Author's Note:**

> here is the meager gift i offer carved through blood sweat and tears to you all  
> constructive criticism is highly appreciated :) note that this follows the character roles/plot of the TV show prison break but deviates slightly in areas. a lot of dialogue is also the exact same that of the show.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> with the chance to go back and amend every grievance  
> how could I resist preventing my demons  
> from ever existing and making a mess  
> of the life that I could have had
> 
> the dear hunter - the right wrong

23/12/2006

_My name is Akaashi Keiji, and I am 27, and I am a dead man._

“You can’t argue, really. Neither of you.” Yaku murmured, pushing a felt file across the small distance between himself and the two men opposite. His face was angled towards the table but his eyes were pinned on the pair. Akaashi counted to twelve before Yaku blinked again. He dared not break eye contact to survey the room, feeling eyes burn on the back of his neck from someone.

 _“You_ know how dangerous this is.” Komi pressed, snapping on a pair of latex gloves. He took the file and rotated it on the table so he could pull open. Akaashi, to his left, watched with bated breath as a few stapled units were taken out of the file and set out carefully in front of him. “You realise that this is worth more than we owe, right?”

“Is it?” Yaku replied lazily, watching him take the topmost paper to read. It was a police report with mugshot of a man, probably a few years older than Akaashi himself, with thin, slanted eyes and high cheekbones. He was smirking. “I’m only asking a favour.”

“ _A favor.”_   Komi repeated scathingly, flipping through the pages. It was silent save for the humming of the poor fluorescents and the wheeze Yaku had every time he breathed out. Komi's eyes scrutinized the page before handing it over to Akaashi who tried to read in the dim lighting of the room. “As if this is just a favour.” Yaku picked up the second bundle of pages. “You’re asking me to send my best man in to a job that might land us _both_ in even deeper shit than we already are.”

“I’m not a stupid man, Haruki.” Yaku said, voice unwavering. “And neither are you. If you really bad the best interest in mind here you’d--”

“You’re asking me to send him on a suicide mission!” Komi interrupted. His thumbs were pressing wrinkles into the paper held between them. Akaashi shifted in his seat, turning over the page to read the small print stamped above the report: _Kuroo Tetsurou; detained at a brothel at Nerima Ward; prior offenses include…_

“I’m not asking _you,_ ” Yaku stated, unblinking eyes shifting to Akaashi, who sat rigid against the chair, “I’m asking Akaashi-san.” Yaku's hands, bony and thin that previously rest in his lap, raised to brush some hair from his forehead and behind his ears. His eyes were red-rimmed and deep, bottomless tunnels. “Kuro’s set date is in three months. By then I need him out, unscathed.”

Akaashi maintained eye contact before he drew them back down to the paper in his hands. He laid it on the table cautiously, picking up the second which contained a pristine copy of the Karasuno Penitentiary blueprints, yellowed just slightly. Among the papers were detailed reports of articles reflecting the prison’s lackluster facilities. Akaashi tapped the pages into a neat pile before laying them down in front of him. “Do you mind if I keep these?”

“By all means, feel free to.”

Akaashi tucked the papers into the file and closed it before exhaling through his nose, willing the tension in his shoulders to dissipate. “With all due respect, Yaku-san, you are asking me to put your colleague at life-threatening risk. I have no qualms against the settlement you and Komi-san have come to agree with,” Komi made an offended sound, “but are you sure this is the wisest way to have him released?”

Yaku’s fingers twitched, veins running blue under the dim fluorescents. “It shouldn’t matter whether it’s wise or not. Without him, you and he are as good as dead. Don’t you forget that you are in debt to me.”

Silence followed. Akaashi dared not chew the gum that was in his mouth. The tension was so thick he could feel it closing around his throat; squeezing. Komi’s eyes flitted between both Yaku and Akaashi before falling on the man opposite, looking frustrated. “All I’m trying to reason is that we would both be...at an advantage if we weren’t subjecting Akaashi to Karasuno. I have others who would be _just_ as formidable for the task. He is my most skilled hitman and engineer.” He said. Akaashi could see his pulse jump in his throat, as fast as a jackrabbit.

“Which is why I am requesting this of you. Akaashi-san,” Yaku said, “Yamamoto?”

The man behind Akaashi stepped forward and laid a crude looking shoebox on the table. When he stepped back to the door Yaku stood, lifting the lid. The contents were underwhelming: a typewritten sheet, a gun, and an envelope of what Akaashi assumed was yen. “This,” He said, putting the lid back on the cardboard box and pushing it towards the pair, “is what you will brandish in two weeks time when you hold a bank at gunpoint. The details are included in the booklet. Then, when in court, you will request Karasuno as your holding ground, to make it easier for your sick mother to visit as it is near her home, and she is dying. The money you had stolen was going to pay for surgery for her. As for when you’re inside,” Yaku began, stopping to shift his eyes back to Akaashi, “Kuro already knows someone will come to retrieve him, that person being you. His hearing was only last week, so...so I do apologise for this being short notice.”

Akaashi smoothed his hands across the lip of the file, brows furrowing. “I don’t suppose you have an organised plan for _how_ I’m meant to carry out this operation?”

Yaku shrugged, smiling for the first time since he’d shown up at Akaashi’s doorstep a few days ago. It was unnerving. “You’re a smart man, Akaashi-san. That’s why I’m putting my faith into you.”

He wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or flattered. “Well,” Akaashi began, trailing off. He placed the file on top of the box and seemed to stall for a moment before giving a short nod, “I have no qualms. Not really, though I do request that you allow me to carry out the task within my own method.” He said, boldly, despite the squeezing of his gut. “I’d like to look over the blueprints and complete personal research first. It’s not to say I shan’t do it, but I’m inexperienced, and truthfully don’t know if what you’re asking of me is possible.”

“It’s maximum security.” Komi scoffed, “This is a prison we’re talking about, not a holding cell, not jail. Why can’t Tetsurou do this by himself? If my memory serves me correctly I know he’s perfectly capable of carrying a job like this out by himself. His ego seems to think so, anyway. ”

“I spoke to him,” Yaku said, “not long ago, over the phone. If the arrangements are as they used to be then he’s allowed only a brief time outside. He wasn’t meant to be in Miyagi--he should’ve been sent here with us, in Tokyo. He has no clue what the layout of the area’s like, and because he’s in segregation he can’t truly see it for himself.”

Komi cussed under his breath and rested his forehead between both hands, sighing out of his nose. “‘S no surprise. Police are dumb, but judges aren’t. Probably knew he’d try and wheedle his way out of a local prison. I can’t believe they arrested him on petty crime.”

Yaku shrugged, twirling a strand of almond hair around one of his fingers. “It’s fine for us. He’s keeping notes on all of the inmates. All we’ve got to do now is have our catalyst to activate the process.” He looked to Akaashi. “With this, we’ll settle your debt to us. No more favours needed. No more IOUs.”

“Fine.”

“No way in hell.” Komi protested, voice lowering to a hiss. “Keiji--this is a suicide mission. You know full well you could die in there.”

“Could I? It’s no more danger than we’re already in.” Akaashi replied blandly, standing up. Blood rushed to his head and briefly tilted the ground beneath his feet. He offered a hand over the table and watched Yaku's eyes glint with something dangerous and sharp. Akaashi felt something lodge in his throat and he tried to swallow it down.

“You’ve lived up to my expectations.” Yaku complimented ominously, rising to his feet to clasp Akaashi’s hand in his own, which felt bone dry and frail against his damp and cool palm. He let go as briefly as he could and tucked his chair under the metal table, motioning for Yamamoto at the other side of the room to unlock the door. “I will meet you here in seven days to finalise the arrangements.” A pause. “Thank you.” For the briefest moment Akaashi saw Yaku’s features soften; and then he was gone, through the door, where Yamamoto held it open.

“You crazy motherfucker.” Komi’s head was shaking disapprovingly at Akaashi, standing up and gathering the coat draped across the back of his chair, eyes never once leaving his green ones. “D’you realise what predicament you’ve put yourself in? Huh?” His finger jabbed Akaashi square between his ribs, snarling. “You think this is the end of this little spat between us and them? Once Tetsurou’s out he’ll claim--”

“No, he won’t.” Akaashi cooly deflected, shrugging his own coat back on. “Not if he wants to return to Tokyo, he won’t. My job as it is is dangerous, and so is yours. This is no different.” Akaashi fixed the lapels on his coat and straightened his collar before gathering the box and file underneath his arm precautiously.

 _"No different.”_  Komi repeated mockingly, “You’re walking into a building full of--of Kuroo’s! You aren’t _like_ them, Keiji. They’ll bite your hand off as soon as you step foot behind those bars.”

“I can assure you I can handle myself quite well, thank you.” Akaashi moved towards the door, avoiding eye contact with the man who held it open. Komi followed him through until they came into the hallway, quickly moving down to the fire escape out back. The air that met them was crisp, different to the stifling heat of the room. He could feel Komi's curious eyes watching him set the box down between his legs to tap out two cigarettes from the cardboard slip he’d pulled from his pocket.

“The breaking out part won’t be tricky, I don’t think,” Akaashi said, eyes narrowing when a cold gust of air blew past and ruffled his hair, “It’ll be the secrativity that’ll be hard. Protection, utilities, time. Not so much the task itself.” He lit the cigarette between his lips, handing the lighter to Komi.

“You’re speaking like you’ve done this before. Is there something you aren’t telling me?” Komi teased, cupping the flame against the wind before the tip caught ablaze. He tucked the lighter back into Akaashi’s pocket, who laughed in return at his words.

“I used to read a lot of shit literature when I was younger and like to think I have some idea of what to expect once inside.”

“And you reckon you can do it?” He asked, “Go inside and survive, I mean. All by yourself.”

“Who said I’d be doing it by myself?” He tipped back to rest against the wall of the izakaya, exhaling into the freezing air above him. “It’s better to have allies than none at all in an environment like that. Remember that huge court case, ‘bout five years ago, of that _Bonnie and Clyde_ couple that got incarcerated up in Karasuno?” At Komi’s grunt of confirmation Akaashi took a drag of his cigarette and held it until his lungs burned.

“You’re not…”

“If that’s already public knowledge, then there’s bound to be information everywhere on people like that. If I can get with the right people, then surely--”

Komi cackled from his side, jabbing him with an elbow just a little too hard. “You crazy bastard! You’re information farming? If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were working _for_ Nekoma.”

“I’m not ‘information farming’.” Akaashi replied, eyes falling to the box between his ankles to tuck it closer to the wall. “I’m going to research. It’s what people who want to do a good job do.”

“Keiji, I don’t think you realise,” Komi started, his laughter coming out in short puffs of white air, “these people aren’t colleagues. You aren’t in an office. They’d probably beat you up just for--for shits and giggles. You understand that, right? I don’t think ‘acquaintances’ is the best word to describe those inside.”

Akaashi’s mouth twitched, raising his eyes to meet Komi's, watching his smile fall when he saw the intensity of his stare. “It’ll work. It’s what always works. Threaten people with information they thought was private.” It was quiet, then, safe for the crackling of the cigarette at each drag. He tapped the ash away from the shoebox, snuffing out the cigarette against the pavement when he was finished. ”Who is this Kuroo character, anyways?”

Komi scoffed, closing his eyes as he leaned back against the brick. “He’s a character, alright.” He mused, crushing the glow of the ash underneath his heel before tucking his hands under his armpits to keep warm. “I used to work with him years and years ago. He’s a fucking good businessman, let me tell you that. And a conniving one, too. He sells information to gangs, mostly, and weaponry. I can’t believe the police got him after being caught frolicking with some illegal prostitutes. After all the other shit he’s done. Sod’s law, huh?”

“Yeah.” Akaashi’s brow furrowed, fingers burrowing further into his pockets, “Sod’s law.”

The sky above was crystal clear, devoid of any blemish, and positively freezing. He wondered how long it would be until he would see an afternoon like this in the near, freer future. As the birds sang from their perch above the izakaya and the warmth of his scarf grounded him he allowed himself to close his eyes and relish in the moment, the weightlessness of his body, and the tranquility of Sunday afternoon Tokyo.


	2. Act II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh what a terrible,  
> terrible game we play  
> replacing a pawn for a body  
> and the players; politicians  
> who say what they need to say
> 
> the dear hunter - in cauda veneum

12/01/2007

“You’re absolutely sure about this?”

Akaashi made a quiet sound in the back of his throat, unwinding the scarf from around his neck to tie around Komi's, only struggling a little to maneuver around the handcuffs on his wrist. The other sighed, offering a frustrated look, securing it around his own neck. “Two months. Not all that long.” He dismissed, turning to watch a uniformed man come through one of the doors to collect him.

“You’d best come back in one piece.” Komi said, vaguely threatening, taking the brown paper envelope from the table and peeling it open. His name and number was crudely written on the front in black Sharpie. Akaashi loosened the ring on his thumb to slide off, along with the watch on his wrist. He put both into the bag before taking out a pair of reading glasses from his breast pocket, cleaning them on his shirt, and adding them to the pouch. Komi licked the seal and closed the envelope, standing with Akaashi following suit. He briskly handed it to the guard, who smiled in return and tossed it into a plastic tray.

“Ready?” The guard said. He turned around and offered a curt nod to Komi who gave a nod in return, brown eyes hardened. The guard nudged him through the door leading to the registrating rooms. Akaashi caught the nametag ‘Sugawara’ before remembering to keep his eyes level to the path ahead.

The registration room was small and cold. He passed through a metal detector in the doorway that sang as soon as he stepped foot. Sugawara’s brow raised before Akaashi nodded towards the paper clipboard in his hand, and the furrow in the other’s brow dissipated. “Leg?”

“Below the knee.” Akaashi elaborated, lifting the trouser leg to show the metal prosthetic. He was nudged back through the metal detector to make room for the other inmates that followed and handed a change of clothes. He was uncomfortably prodded by a man with a bleached tuft of hair at the front of his head, asked to cough while bent over, and finally released from his cuffs. When he put on the clothes they were too large on him.

“Akashi Keiji.” Sugawara called, looking up from his position at the door.

“It’s Akaashi.”

“What’s your number, _Akaashi_ Keiji?”

“94055.”

“Are you a religious man, _Akaashi_?”

“Never really thought of it before.”

“Good, because a thing like that doesn’t mean a box of piss in here.”

Akaashi nodded stiffly.

“Listen up, ladies,” Sugawara began, voice raising to address the line queueing at the door, “I don’t give a shit what landed you in here. I don’t want to know about whether or not ‘you have links outside these walls’, or any other empty threats. I will not hesitate to throw _all_ of you in seg for the stuff you do for shits and giggles. Make your lives easy and stay in your lane. Am I clear?”

No reply.

“Good. I also understand that all of you are lonely and probably missing your wives, but if you wish to engage in _illicit activities,_ please, at least do it privately. This is your home away from home for the next lifetime, give or take. Don’t make any stupid decisions.” With that Sugawara made way for the other guards who stepped out with clipboards and began announcing names and numbers in groups. Akaashi went to a guard that looked, frankly, quite board and stood until he finished registering inmates.

The cells in the hall were empty. A few officers stood watch among the thirty rooms, all dressed in thick coats and gloves. As he passed the cubicles, all doors open, he picked up on the little touches to the rooms--various pictures, Crosses on the wall. The blonde guard lead Akaashi up the second floor to his cell. In comparison to all of the others this one seemed a little brighter. There was a bunk bed, bottom one unkempt and previously slept-in, with a desk filled with books and crayons and notepads. The remaining space of the room was occupied by a toilet and sink.

The desk was cluttered, papers strewn across the surface with crayon marks and symbols. There were notes written in a language he couldn’t read, the handwriting so appalling it slipped from the lines and slanted across the paper. Maybe it was Japanese, he couldn’t tell. There _pages_ of it, too; just stacks of intelligible scrawl that slipped down the page horizontally, pen pressing too hard into the paper and ripping it in some places. Something uncomfortable settled in Akaashi’s stomach. He ran his hand underneath the rim of the table to feel for shivs, but found nothing.

Akaashi turned then to the books. The spines had cracked into bar-codes, worn bare at the edges, yellowed and old. _Angels and Demons, The Quest, The Righteous Men…_

“Religious, huh.” Akaashi mused, finding two copies of the Bible among the pile. The creases on the spines were so deep he couldn’t make out titles. Akaashi picked up a copy of _Day Four_ , shifting to sit on the stool at the desk. He wet his finger and turned the first page that was unexpectedly covered in black ink and smudges from fine pencils.

He released his thumb on the pages and watched them flick past, all littered with graffiti. It near impossible to read with the notes and dog ears. Akaashi frowned and closed the book, pushing it back into the pile it was in before. From the notepad on the desk Akaashi tore out of a blank piece of paper and folded it twice into a square.

“You’re touching my stuff?”

The voice startled Akaashi. He turned around to watch a man step through the opening in the bars where the door was open. He was huge; biceps as thick as Akaashi’s thighs with broad shoulders that blocked out the overhanging light, making it hard to see him in the shadow. Akaashi quickly tucked the paper back up into his sleeve and took a crayon in his hand.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise these were yours.” He replied coolly. Akaashi stood from his position at the stool and made way for the man to come in, who rifled through his papers and books. Once his eyes adjusted to the change in lighting of the room he was taken aback the softness of the other’s features. His hair was spiked up, dual toned, his features warm around the edges His eyes glowed gold. He thumbed at the creases of the notes before tapping them into a neat pile.

“D’you move anything?” The other asked, angling his face to look up to Akaashi.

“I read one of your books.”

"What one?"

"Day Four."

He stood, then, to his full height which only raised a little above Akaashi’s own and offered a sunny grin. _Strangely charming._ Akaashi blanched.

“I’m Bokuto Koutarou--are you new? I haven’t seen you here before.” Bokuto’s hand was outstretched in a handshake. Akaashi belatedly took it, the palm clasping his own in a warm grasp before letting go.

 _Bokuto Koutarou,_ Akaashi thought, _I’ve researched you. Multimillionaire heavy._

“I arrived here just a while ago.” Akaashi nodded, voice quiet in comparison to the boisterous volume of Bokuto’s. Behind him the iron bars of the cell shut with a clang, making Akaashi flinch.

“You get used to it.” He said, motioning to the door. “Who’d you get?”

Akaashi met him with a questioning look.

“Who brought you in here? Gave you the spiel about behavior, and all.”

“Oh. Sugawara-san, I think.” Akaashi said.

Bokuto laughed, deep and throaty. “Wow, Suga-chan?” Akaashi made no indication of confirmation. “Damn. Don’t mind him--he’s real nice, actually. Even if he’s a little scary.”

 _I doubt that,_ Akaashi thought, shifting from his place in the corner of the room where he’d backed into at Bokuto’s entrance. He moved to curiously peek out of the bars, listening to the shuffling of the other tidying his papers. The area was large: two walls of cell blocks stretching up two stories that dipped into a valley where guards stood and surveyed. If Akaashi squinted he could see the cell directly opposite him occupied by just one person who filed their nails from their position at the top bunk.

“So,” Bokuto began, leaning back against the desk, speaking to the back of Akaashi’s head, “what’s your name?”

“Pardon?” Akaashi said, blinking out of his stupor and turning to face Bokuto, who matched him with an unimpressed stare.

“Your name.” He repeated, tilting his head owlishly. The previous look had vanished, only curious now. “You sure seem to zone out, don’t you?”

“Sorry, I’m...adjusting, is all.” Akaashi excused, wiping his damp palms on his trousers. “I’m Akaashi.”

“Akaashi!” Bokuto announced, standing to clasp him on the shoulder. “Welcome to Karasuno.”

 

* * *

 

The fresh air was the best Akaashi had ever smelt, even if it was near freezing. Bokuto didn’t wear a jacket despite the bitter temperatures, walking with just a long sleeved undershirt and a blue button up. Through the main building and past the chain linked fence was a grassy open area with a basketball court, weight lifting area, and several benches that resembled wooden bleachers. Dew clung to his boots as he shuffled through the grass.

“Seijoh,” Bokuto said, nodding towards the tarmac basketball court, “have the hoops. Usually Shiratorizawa have the bleachers, but it’s game right now. They only take it during the afternoon.” Bokuto shrugged, walking Akaashi around the perimeter of the open area. Across the plane sat just one man at the bleachers. At closer inspection Akaashi noted that he had a plum bruise that stretched down his eye to his cheek, and that both his middle and ring finger were missing, nursing a bloody bandage over the knuckles instead. His eyes caught Akaashi’s from across the distance and a smile peeled his face. Akaashi found it hard to look away.

"Don't look at Tendou." Bokuto warned, maneuvering Akaashi away from the gaze of the other. "He's unpredictable. People like him, they..." He made an uncomfortable sound. "Just, stay clear, is all."

“Who’s the pet lover?” Akaashi asked, nodding his head towards a man sat cross legged on a table with a cat between his legs, soundly asleep.

“Oh that...that’s Kenma.” Bokuto said, his eyes shifting from the redhead to the path as they walked past, looking for any indication that he’d heard them speak about him. "He doesn't speak much. He'll deny it but word has it that he's D.B. Cooper. Parachuted out of a plane with a million and a half in cash."

"Doesn't look like the type."

A chuckle. "Who does? I reckon they let him keep that cat 'cause it causes no harm. Who's going to take an animal from a man, anyway?""

"I suppose a cat really isn't that much of a dangerous weapon."

“But I’m telling you, the guards are the dirtiest gang in this whole place.” Bokuto said, noticing his discomfort. “The only difference between us and them is the badge.”

“Police are all the same.” Akaashi said, fingers growing cold in the pockets of his coat.

“It’s been getting quieter here, though. This place is on its last legs. The showers run cold most days and there’s no working air conditioning.” Bokuto’s arms crossed over his chest, his sleeves looking fit to burst. “How did you end up here?”

“I...requested to be here.” Akaashi said, turning to meet his eyes. Bokuto looked baffled. “Do you know where I can find Kuroo Tetsurou?”

“Kuro?” Bokuto echoed, back straightening.

 _The same nickname Yaku used,_ Akaashi thought. _Just how many people does this guy know?_

“Why’d you want to see him?” Bokuto asked, arms loosening in their cross over his chest.

“Humor me.” Akaashi said. “Do you know where he is?”

Bokuto seemed to scrutinize him for a second before he sucked his teeth and nodded his head over to the section of the yard chained off from the rest. “We aren’t allowed to really go over there.” He said. “‘Cause of the capitol punishment and all, they think someone’ll convince him to do something crazy. ‘S not like he has anything to lose, after all.” Akaashi’s gaze followed the direction and saw nothing. He squinted and spotted a long, dark figure pacing the area. He casually made his way over, Bokuto falling into step beside him.

As they neared the chain linked fence Akaashi saw that Kuroo was idly throwing and catching a tennis ball, muttering to himself. Now that he was in the flesh Akaashi saw little resemblance to the mugshot. He was lanky and had a hunch in his back, inky hair styled wildly, eyes rimmed black and shining golden. Only when Bokuto called something did he turn, catching the ball blindly before his face split into a grin. When he noticed Akaashi the smile fell into a lapse of surprise before it peeled into a smirk, much like Tendou’s did.

“Who’s your friend, Bo?” Kuroo greeted, head tilting to the side. He stood a few inches taller than Akaashi.

“My new cellie.” Bokuto said, nudging Akaashi. He said nothing. “He’s a little shy.”

“Don’t think I’ve seen you around here before, Akaashi-kun.” Kuroo said, voice lilting at the end of the sentence. He reached forward to tangle his fingers through the holes of the fence, eyes flitting to Bokuto’s. “I’d watch out if I were you, Bo. This guy’s a wolf in sheep’s skin.”

Bokuto watched Akaashi, eyes rounder than usual, but made no move to shift away. “You two know each other?”

Akaashi’s brow twitched, clearing his throat. Kuroo’s smirk widened. “As funny as this may seem to you, Kuroo-san, I have strict orders to deliver you safely home. And you are making it very hard for me to do that, right now.”

Bokuto seemed to stall for a moment before he leaned into the chain fence, eyes falling between Kuroo and Akaashi. “Wait, is--”

“Yeah.” Kuroo breathed, holding his face closer to the fence, eyes unblinking. “He’s the one.”

“I beg your pardon?” Akaashi poorly concealed the crack in his voice.

“You three! Four feet between you!” One the guards called, waving a baton in their general area. Kuroo raised his hands in lazy defence and took two steps back, shoving them into his pockets when the guard wandered out of earshot.

Akaashi’s eyes harrowed Kuroo. “I didn’t quite catch what you’d said beforehand, Kuroo-san.”

“I was saying,” Kuroo repeated, chin tilting up a fraction, “that you’re taking me out of this shithole.”

Akaashi’s eyes drilled holes into Kuroo’s chest, willing himself to calm down. He cast a frantic glance in Bokuto's direction before it returned to the man behind the fence. “You’re difficult.” He said after a moment, taking a steadying breath. “I don’t want to burst your bubble, Kuroo-san, but this information is _strictly confidential._ ”

“Which is exactly why Bo is listening.” Kuroo stated, no question. Akaashi opened his mouth to argue back but was promptly cut off. "You won't say anything, will you?"

"Nuh uh." Bokuto agreed, crossing his arms over his chest with a blinding grin.

Akaashi's brain stuttered for a moment, trying to conjure up any specific reason he was tasked to salvage a man like Kuroo from his rightful place at Karasuno. It didn't matter whether or not Kuroo was a powerful asset back home with Akaashi, as he would've taken him out himself by this point. Any man that played with critical information was as good as dead. "I do hope you realise, for your sake  _and_ mine, that this is out of your control. I do not need your assistance, nor your word of approval, to make decisions. Am I clear?"

"Hey, hear him out." Kuroo interjected, gesturing vaguely to Bokuto.

“If I have get to have any say in this...” Bokuto began, shifting uncomfortably, “Kuro mentioned your...pre-existing medical condition? You have Type 1 Diabetes?” Akaashi stalled, and he took it as a signal to continue. “Well,” Bokuto began, rocking back on his heels, “I’m diabetic. Type 1, that is. And I get to see Dr. Kiyoko every day. So I could do that for you--if it makes it easier. Whatever it is you need done, if you need the nurse’s office.” He made a gesture towards Kuroo. “Kuro’s told me, 'bout that drug."

"PUGNAc."

"That's it. Ushijimaーwho deals with that sort of stuff...he's not a friendly guy. I reckoned I'd offer helpーit’s okay, you don’t have to tread on eggshells around me.”

Akaashi looked partially disgusted, taken aback at the offer. “Just how much have you ran your mouth?” He jabbed Kuroo’s chest with his finger, who merely shrugged.

“Don’t assault me.” Kuroo said, finally dropping his smirk. “He just wants to offer his services.”

“I do.” Bokuto echoed. Akaashi watched him with an unreadable expression. "Don't fancy the...outside life. But I thought, y'know, I could be of some assistance if I needed to be."

“You are difficult.” He repeated, stepping away from the fence. “When are your free hours?”

“Church, which is in a few hours, and P.I.” Kuroo said, chuckling, as if it was funny. “Don’t bother about the second one--Oikawa runs P.I.”

“Oikawa Tooru?”

“That’s the one.” Kuroo confirmed, nodding towards the basketball courts. “He’s a walking snake pit. Him and his lackeys run the court in that area; may as well call him the Grand King of the Court.”

“I wouldn’t say that aloud.” Bokuto remarked. “His ego’s as big as his hair.”

Akaashi considered him from the distance between the open area. He was still filing his nails. Akaashi shifted to tuck his hands underneath his armpits for warmth in the frigid air. “Where’s his sidekick?”

“Seg. Got in a nasty tousle with Shiratorizawa again.”

“I see.” He said, eyes narrowing before regarding both of them. “Then this should be easy.”

“You really think so?”

“The weakest person is the person who thinks they can’t be broken, and that’s exactly what Oikawa’s like.” Akaashi remarked. “His chin’s held so high he can’t see where he’s going.”

“How poetic.”

Akaashi ignored him. The wind blew, pushing the curls from Akaashi’s eyes and the mess of hair from Kuroo’s, whereas Bokuto’s stood up straight. “There’re articles and articles of him online. Did you know he used to be on the Japanese National volleyball team? And that he murdered one of his teammates?” Silence met him. “He has fan blogs, too.”

“Delightful.”

Akaashi’s eyes never left the group of them that huddled around a bench while the rest played basketball. He pulled out a slip of paper from his sleeve and reached down to his left leg to pull out the small nub of a crayon. Both men watched in curiosity as Akaashi scribbled something on the paper and folded it dexterously, nodding over to the group. “Is he aggressive?”

“Not particularly. He cries a lot.” Bokuto commented, scratching the back of his neck. “You took my favourite crayon.”

“Sorry.” Akaashi murmured, handing the purple crayon back over before presenting the both with a paper crane. “I’ll only be a second.”

“How bold.” Kuroo commented, watching Akaashi straighten the collar of his jacket before walking across the open planes of the yard. The dirt had frozen over and felt like stone beneath his boots.

Oikawa and his lackeys sat around a table, playing a game of cards. Akaashi didn’t look long enough to see what one it was. “Excuse me.”

None of them looked up.

“Oikawa-san, I need you to hire me for P.I.”

Oikawa laid down an ace and picked up a seven of clubs. “Beat it.”

“Maybe you ought to hear what I’ve got to say.”

He chuckled underneath his breath, eyes never once leaving the cards. “You’ve got nothing I need.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that.”

Akaashi laid a paper crane on the table, watching as both men at either side of Oikawa snicker. “Look, Mattsun. A duck.”

Oikawa looked appalled. He picked up the paper and turned it over a few times before shifting in his seat to look at Akaashi. His lashes were long, curled, and his features were pretty. “My mistake. Just what I need.” A pause. “A duck.”

“That’s a crane, Oikawa-san.” A young man who seemed to be permanently scowling said from the other side of the table.

“Shut up, Mad-Dog-chan.”

“P.I., Oikawa-san. You might find I may be of more assistance than you think.” He waited for a reply, and received none. “Mull it over. Come find me when you’re ready to talk.”

“What is this, a confession?” Oikawa snarled, raising from his seat to regard Akaashi. He squared off his shoulders and leaned into his personal space.

“Don’t listen to him.” ‘Mattsun’ said, lazily peeking at Oikawa’s cards that laid face-up on the table, “He’s just upset because his boyfriend’s been put on the naughty step.”

Oikawa’s eyes narrowed on Akaashi before he huffed. He tucked a dark curl behind his ear before patting his cheek, almost affectionately, and definitely condescendingly. “Move along, fish.”

"You're a mercurial man, Oikawa-san."

"I prefer 'bold'."

Akaashi regarded him for a few more moments, features stoic, tucking his hands into his pocket back into his pocket. He turned around and headed back towards the chain linked fence that separated the main building from the outside area. The sirens from above blared; inmates from around Akaashi shuffled in the direction he was heading, including Bokuto who jogged up to Akaashi’s side. His cheeks had turned rosy from the cold. “Did’ya have any luck?”

“Yes.” Akaashi said, easily. “When’re you next due a trip to the nurse’s?”

“Just before dinner. I’d say about thirty minutes?”

“Could you do a favor for me?” Akaashi asked once they were inside the building and heading up the stairs, checking the neighboring ones briefly for any occupants.

“Of course I can!” Bokuto rolled his sleeves up to the elbow. Akaashi sat at the desk as soon as he was inside, shrugging off his jacket to hang over the top bunk. He held up the notepad and Bokuto nodded in consent, letting Akaashi tear out a clean piece of paper. It had imprints from where Bokuto had written so harshly on the papers above it.

“I need you to drop this,” He said, folding the piece of paper into the same crane shape he had earlier, “into the drain in Dr. Kiyoko’s office. It’s located to the left, underneath the sink. Do you know what I’m talking about?” Bokuto nodded.

“Why?”

“That office is the weakest point in the entire facility. It’s located closest to the wall, but furthest from a guard tower, ratio-wise. I need to see where that pipe leads to--or, if it leads to where I at least think it does. If I’m correct, and it doesn’t rain, we should see that in the drain in the yard.”

“Wow.” Bokuto complimented in quiet awe.

Akaashi’s back straightened awkwardly, unsure of what to do with himself. “Can you buy toothpaste in commissary?”

“Sure can.”

“I’ll also need you to take a tube of it every time you go up to empty into the drain. It’ll corrode the pipe and let us access the room underneath.”

“Just toothpaste? It’s  _that_ strong? I mean, I knew it wasn’t the _best_ quality--”

“No.” Akaashi pulled up the sleeve of his undershirt and presented just a small section of the intricate tattoo that spiraled up his arm. Bokuto held his forearm between gentle fingers. “Just the tube’s needed.”

“CUTE poison?”

“It’s a mnemonic for copper sulfate phosphoric acid. When you mix them together they react violently and corrode metal.” Akaashi said, pulling the sleeve down when Bokuto had let go. “I just need to get my hands on the materials, is all.”

“That’s brilliant. How d’you know all of this?” He asked, head tilting in that same owlish demeanor he had before. Akaashi heard the door behind them close, assuming all of the inmates were finally in their cells, and he felt Bokuto let go of his wrist.

“It’s simple chemistry. I also had access to Karasuno’s blueprints before I came.” He said, closing his eyes. “If I think about it hard enough, I can see them behind my eyelids.”

“Wow.” Bokuto repeated. “Like, photographic memory?”

“Sort of, I suppose.”

“ _Wow._ ”

“Can you do that for me?” Akaashi asked, folding the crane neatly flat and tucking it into Bokuto’s breast pocket, feeling the warmth radiating from his body. He offered a minute smile, settling against the brackets of the bed. H received an eager nod in return.

“What was with the bird you gave to Oikawa, though?” Bokuto asked, taking the crayon from his pocket and putting it where the piles of colourful pencils previously were. “Was it a symbol?”

“The paper had an address on it.” Akaashi said, turning to look out of the opening of the cell and past the bars. To his direct opposite Oikawa sat, filing his nails with vigor, eyes trained on Akaashi as if he had a target on his forehead. “I guess he didn’t throw it away, after all.”

“Has he been staring at you this entire time?”

“Most likely.” Akaashi said, shrugging. “The paper had coordinates on there. Where he’d buried that ex-teammate.”

Bokuto was silent. When Akaashi turned to see why, he was met with a pair of astonished eyes. “How do you know that?”

“I don’t.” He said simply, hoisting himself up to the top bunk. Oikawa’s eyes followed. “There’s a lot of information about Oikawa online, but no real information about the missing person they all _assume_ he killed. That is because they have never found the body.” To his left the door to their cell opened for Bokuto, who’s eyes were unblinking and captivated by Akaashi. “The coordinates are to the general area of the marshland from his hometown.”

“That’s…” Bokuto said, trailing off.

“I guess I just hit lucky with the guess.” Akaashi shrugged, briefly looking over to the cell opposite to see that he was still being scrutinized. Excitement spread through Akaashi’s stomach, feeling wickedly meddlesome, not considering the possible consequences of the anger he’d raised.

A guard neared the cell, motioning for Bokuto to move from his perch at the stool. He settled back against the bedframe to rest his eyes, listening to the scrape of the chair when Bokuto stood. Even once he was in the doorway Akaashi felt those golden eyes watch into him, fascinated.“Don’t forget the paper in your pocket, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi called. The only sound that met him was the clank of the bars once the door had shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note that p.i. is prison industry and it's a scheme set up where every prisoner works in the prison, be it constructing or painting
> 
> i hope this adds a little more substance to the plot? it's 3am and i have a Very Important Competition in about 6 hours so i haven't had time to check this over...so my deepest apologies if this isn't worth ur time... also note a lot more of the dialogue here is derived/carbon copied from the first episode of prison break


	3. Act II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> horse meat burger  
> shake and fries  
> let'em eat cake  
> now where's the surprise  
> payday loans: it's almost funny  
> too much month at the end of the money.
> 
> all this stress  
> and all this worry  
> all this fret  
> and all this hurry  
> cut to the bone until you can't keep up  
> someone comes and tells you its storm in a teacup
> 
> hard-fi - move over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note that this references rape and harsh/graphic language

13/01/2007

_“Are you two listening?”_

_“I am.”_

_Akaashi sighed. “I know_ you _are, Bokuto-san. Kuroo?”_

_Kuroo waited with a bored expression, hair hanging limply over his eye._

_Akaashi drew in a breath from the cooling air above, holding his left hand out, spread out with his palm facing down. Just as Bokuto had seen previously, if only briefly, black ink spiralled up Akaashi’s forearm and wove down his fingers and thumb, stretching up past the cuffs of his shirt. “This,” He said, flexing the fingers on his hand to draw their attention, as if it wasn’t already stolen, “is our plan.”_

_The design was intricate and abstract. All five fingers had straight lines, like branches, or tubes, running up their length, curling around the joins and sweeping up the sides. At each knuckle was a number, and at the bracelet of his wrist were the words ‘Schweitzer Allen, 1121147’. Up past the rest of his hand were vines and sprouting flowers, soft colours dipping under his shirt._

_“Is that a quote?”_

_“No, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi said, meeting Kuroo halfway with a knowing look. “This is our map of the cellblock and infirmary. This,” He said, pointing with his right hand to his little finger on the left hand, “is the main hallway. The cellblock valley. My ring finger is corridor leading behind our cell, where the toilet and desk is fastened to. See how my ring finger is above and longer than my pinky? If we’re speaking ratios, that’s the difference in sizes.”_

_Akaashi flexed the two fingers he’d named into his palm and held the other straight, miming the shape of a gun. “My middle is the pipeline that runs underneath the infirmary. It’s the drainage system from the drain, but it blocks the actual opening itself. The ceiling is open-plan, so if we break those pipes we can uproot the drain and enter the infirmary that way, seeing as it is locked almost 24/7.”_

_Akaashi looked down to his forefinger, which pointed straight, and his thumb, that pointed upright. “My forefinger is the infirmary. If you stand facing the rising sun in the centre of the room you are positioned directly opposite a guard tower. To that’s right is the wall, adjoined by a power chord. It’s fairly durable, but it’s been installed since the 60s. So I hadn’t calculated the possible weight it could take if any extra of us had to cross it…”_

_“Extra?”_

_“I had Kuroo’s colleague collect some information for me. Seeing as this facility is run primarily by the influence of other prisoners, I had a number of people I needed the cooperation of. We need items that only some people have access to, like chemicals.”_

_“That would be Oikawa-san, right?”_

_“Correct. I had this drawn on me so we could see the pathways. As my two fingers, my smallest and my ring, are bent it means they’re on the floor we’re currently on. The straightened ones are on floor above, and above again. The room that contains the pipe is the storage room, which we need access to, anyway, for the chemicals needed to corrode the pipe.”_

_“Oh, you told me about that one! The toothpaste, right?”_

_“The toothpaste tubes.” Akaashi corrected, looking up briefly to meet eager, golden eyes. “I need to get ahold of some Drain Line Root Control, which was in Karasuno’s receipt file from the Industrial Utility warehouse just a few years ago. It shouldn’t be too difficult to come by. Then some type of masonry cleaning solution, and they should be adequate to do the job. You,” He said, punctuating by pointing his mimed gun at Bokuto, “will disperse those chemicals into the same drain from two toothpaste tubes. If they aren’t added the same time the effect won’t take place.”_

_“Got it.”_ _  
_ _“And how’s he going to go into doing this?” Kuroo asked from the small distance, crossing his arms over his chest. “Kiyoko doesn’t let anyone stay in there alone, or at least not for the amount of time you’re thinking of.”_

_“Of course she doesn't.” Akaashi replied, lowering his arm and holding it to Kuroo instead. He closed one of his eyes in a squint, as if to clarity aim, angling directly to the centre of Kuroo’s forehead. “I’ll have someone injure me, so I can end up there and finish the job after Bokuto-san’s second successful trip. Kuroo, if anything else is needed, you’ll also have to end up in there.”_

_“Akaash, you can't do that.” Bokuto chided, thick brows joining together in a frown. “If they think someone’s going to hurt you like that they’ll give the others a row, and then--”_

_“It’ll be fine. Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, alright?”_

“Akaash? Akaash, hey.”

Akaashi startled and sat up so quickly his head hit the ceiling with a low thud. He groaned, falling back to clutch the spot.

“Sorry--did I startle you?” Bokuto asked dumbly, voice louder than appropriate for the time of night, or morning. The lights in the halls were out, and he looked stupidly concerned. A guard shined a torch into the cell, to what Bokuto held his hands up in defence and backed away from the cot. He lingered for a moment before moving down the hall, to what Bokuto turned back to Akaashi with alert, shining eyes that glowed golden in the dark. “It looked like you were having a nightmare.”

Akaashi regarded him for a moment before dropping the hand that was rubbing the tender spot of his forehead, pulling the sheet up a little closer to his chin. “Yes, well...you didn’t have to wake me up to inform me that, Bokuto-san.”

“Oh. Sorry.” He said, unabashed and curious. “What was it about?”

“Bokuto-san.”

“Right. Sorry.” Bokuto at least had the decency to look apologetic at that, shifting away from the bed, back to his bunk. “Are you going to sleep, now?”

“Yes.” Akaashi said.

“Are you going to have a nightmare again?”

Akaashi took a deep breath through his nose and let it out through a sigh. “I can’t control my dreams, Bokuto-san.”

“Goodnight, Akaashi.”

“Goodnight.”

Akaashi hardly, in fact, slept for the remainder of the night. From below him the incessant shifting of Bokuto didn’t let up. He had failed to ask just how Bokuto knew he was having a nightmare in the first place. The dream that followed was forgetful.

The morning that broke over Karasuno was cool and fresh, and it stung Akaashi’s tender eyes. His shower was impossibly brisk, and when he slipped the long sleeves over the vines of tattoos that ran up his forearms while his skin was still damp, the grey cotton clung to his skin. If he had gained an appetite he would’ve tried to eat.

Early morning church was just as bleak and depressing as it was the afternoon prior. A few older men sat at the back with their hands clasped in prayer, a few younger boys sitting towards the front with tears in their eyes. Kuroo was sat directly in front of him, shackled at the ankles and handcuffed, staring directly forwards to the altar.

“I can hear you thinking from here.” Kuroo muttered, sat as still as the dead.

Akaashi shifted a little closer to Kuroo, who made no indication to show that he was listening other than the fact that he leaned a little heavier into the pew. “Who here has access to the storage cupboards?”

“P.I. runs it” Kuroo paused as a guard strolled the aisle, holding his breath until it burned. He let it out slowly before lowering his voice. “Oikawa.”

“Damn it.” Akaashi cussed around the cuticle of his thumb. “Damn it all.”

“Hey.” Kuroo hissed, eyes flicking to Akaashi’s worried expression briefly before it returned to the altar ahead. “Stop it. Focus on the road ahead.”

Akaashi worried at the hardened skin of his thumb as his knee bounced against the wood. He sucked at his finger before pulling it away, wiping the coolness of his palms on his trousers. “I didn’t sleep all night.” Akaashi admitted. “Does Bokuto-san sleep?”

“Does he what?” Kuroo echoed, slightly incredulous.  
“Sleep. Does he _sleep_ , Kuroo?”

“I...I don’t know.” He looked a little lost for words, jaw slackened and eyes downturned. “You’re not joking?”

“I’m _not._ I haven’t seen him sleep since I’ve been here. It’s been 24 hours and I haven’t seen him close his eyes for longer than a few seconds. Before I came and had those profiles of all of those inmates, there was barely anything on him. I have no idea _what_ he is.”

“He’s got problems, is all. We all do.” He defended, clearing his throat subtly. The morning sun shone through the windows and casted a glow on Kuroo that turned his eyes translucently amber and his skin honey coloured. “Don’t give up on him that soon. I know he’s a little eccentric but he’s the nicest person I’ve come across since being in here. He’s the only one that spoke to me when I arrived.”

“I...I know. I just find him a little unnerving, is all. He doesn’t sleep, and he’s a little slow, sometimes, and he only seems to state the obvious. Are you sure he won’t ruin this for you?”

“He won’t.” Kuroo said. Akaashi thought he sounded surer than was appropriate. “Be patient, alright? Where is he, anyway?”

“He’s with Kiyoko now. Said he couldn’t drop the crane in the drain last night because she didn’t leave the room.”

“At least he’s being sensible.”

“He left to see her just before recess. The crane, if he’s done it, should be at that drain’s gate in ten minutes.”

“And if it’s not?”

“Then he’s forgotten to drop it.”

A baton tapped the edge of the pew. Akaashi slowly leaned back into his chair from where he’d shifted and turned to meet the ashy face of Deputy Sugawara. “Mind if I join the conversation, gentlemen?”

“Not at all.” Kuroo offered a lazy grin. “We left enough room for you on the bench.”

“Shut your arsehole and give your face a change to speak, Inmate.” Sugawara’s tone was impassive. He tapped the wood of the pew and motioned for Kuroo to stand, who did after a moment's delay. “A church is sacred. Didn’t your mother teach you anything?”

“No, but yours offered to fill the blanks my mama left me.”

“Out, now. That’s one recess hour doctored.”  
“But--”

“Want to make that two?”

Kuroo sighed through his nose and raised his hand to salute to Akaashi before being nudged towards the side doors leading into the main building. “I don’t want to hear any more jip from either of you. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you canoodling at the fence every time you get the chance to step outside.” Sugawara’s voice was accusatory. “I want to see no more of that, you got that?”

“It’s young love at its purest, Officer. Can’t you spare us your sympathy?”

Sugawara shoved him harshly towards the door, pushing him through the entryway. Akaashi stood in his absence, turning to see that a few of the other attendees were watching him with annoyed faces. Akaashi exited swiftly, greeted once again by the puff of cold air.

_“So, what do those words mean? Schw--Schuz--”_

_“Schweitzer,” Akaashi cut him off, “is the name of the toilets Karasuno have. Allen,” He said, thumbing over the words across the golden skin of his wrist, “is the type of fittings attaching the said toilets to the wall._

_Behind those is a corridor. There are two main pipes leading to the infirmary--one of them is the old sewage system that’s been out of service since 1983, completely hollow. It’s below the break room the C.O.s have. The other is this pipe. It’s small, located directly below the drain in the infirmary. If we can corrode the pipe and break the other ones that block the drain, then we can climb through the floor, to the room itself.”_

_“Are those numbers the size of the drain, then? ‘Cause I’m a big guy.  I don’t think I’d fit through a_ drain _.”_

_“1121147 is the bolt that holds the bleachers together. The drain is 3x4 feet. Don’t give yourself too much credit, Bokuto-san.”_

_“Bolt? Why’d you need a bolt?”_

Akaashi’s fingers brushed the underside of the wooden palettes of the bleachers, feeling for any change in the distance between the bolt and the nut. At the end of the second row of bleachers he felt a fraction of a space underneath his finger, thumbing the spot to feel the ridge of the screw. _Is this one still screwed too tight for me to unwind? For an old facility the benches sure seem to be in good order._

“Wrong piece of real estate you’ve chosen there. Belongs to T-Bag.”  
“Who?” Akaashi’s fingers stalled their ministrations to look to the man sitting just to his left, who currently shuffling a deck of cards.

“You best speak with respect. Man kidnapped half a dozen down in Miyagi. Raped and killed them. Wasn’t always in that order, either.”

“Ah.” Akaashi maneuvered himself to casually sit onto the bench. Feigning a scratch he pulled the 100 yen coin he’d been storing in the ankle of his sock to pinch between fingers, and once he found the ridge of the screwdriver, he slotted the coin in the valley and began to slowly work at unfastening the bolt. The man opposite hadn’t taken his eyes away from the cards. “Does T-Bag have a real name?”

“That _is_ my real name.”

Akaashi’s head turned just a fraction to watch a man, taller than any of the other inmates he’d seen, stalk up the stairs. He stopped just a ledge below Akaashi, watching him with blank eyes as he made a move to stand. His arms were too long for his body, and his face was muddied with that horrendous purple bruise that had turned one of his eyes bloodshot. A boy half his size trailed behind him, clinging to the inside-out material pulled from his pocket.

“No, no, no. Please, sit.” Tendou gestured to the space he was previously occupying. He took a seat directly next to Akaashi, tongue sliding over his lower lip in a quick motion. “So, you’re the new one I’ve been hearing raving reviews about. One thing’s for sure, you’re just as pretty as advertised. Prettier, even. Seijoh’ve got you scared, have they?”

“Sorry?”

“I assume that’s why you’re over here.” Tendou shrugged, tucking his hand into his free pocket. “Few days here on the inside and any God-fearing man realises the correctional system’s got a serious lean towards the rich persuasion.”  
“I haven’t noticed.” Akaashi said passively, fingers twitching around the coin slotted into the bolt. Sweat gathered along his fingers, his joints. He gripped the metal tighter and continued to turn the coin against the bolt, unscrewing it.

“But we’ve got one thing they don’t, don’t we, Kenjirou?”

“Get off of your high horse.” The man who was previously shuffling cards was separating them numerically. “Ushijima won’t like it.”

Tendou promptly ignored him, meeting Akaashi with wild, baseless eyes. “We’ve got surprise.”

“We?”

“We’re going to take the ball game to them, real soon. It’s going to be nasty for a first timer like you but we’ll protect you. _I’ll_ protect you.” Tendou’s grin stretched impossibly wider. “All you’ve got to do,” The hand that was in his pocket pulled it inside-out, handing the bunch of fabric to Akaashi, “is take this pocket right here, and your life’ll be all peaches and cream. I walk, you walk, with me. Keep you real close, so no one up in here can hurt you.”

Akaashi regarded him with an apathetic stare, nodding his head to the boy to Tendou’s right, who was still clinging to his pocket. “Looks to me you’ve already got a girlfriend.”

Tendou’s smile turned sardonic. He tilted himself closer to Akaashi, who stayed rooted in his spot. His fingers stilled over their maneuvering. “I’ve got a whole ‘nother pocket over here.”

“I’ll pass.”

“If I don’t protect you, Seijoh will gobble you up like a plate of black eyed peas.”

From across the yard Akaashi noticed Bokuto, who was petting the cat in Kenma’s lap, watch him. When he finally caught his attention he flashed a thumbs up and a blinding grin. He hadn’t stop flicking his head from Kenma to the bleachers for the duration Akaashi had been over there.

Akaashi steeled himself and tucked the coin back up into his sleeve. He stood from the bench, watching Tendou follow the long line of his legs with his eyes. “I said no.”

“Huh?” Tendou said, standing up next to him. He raised a hand to his eyes to shield from the sun, following the direction he was looking in. “ _Oh,_ you’re hanging around Koutarou?”

Akaashi shrugged his jacket back over his shoulders, brushing down his trousers free of wood splinters. “It was nice meeting you, Tendou-san.”

“You have exotic tastes, do you? I didn’t know you had a thing for the nuthouse recoveriees!” Tendou called, falling back to the bench. “Maybe I _am_ more to your taste than you think!”

Akaashi crossed the distance of the yard to Bokuto and Kenma who looked unconcerned with the world around him bar the cat in his lap. “Akaash!” Bokuto called excitedly, rushing over to meet him halfway. He almost tripped over his own feet but caught himself, cheeks pink. “Whoops! I almost fell there. Akaash, guess what, guess what! It’s floating!”

“Quieter, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi chided, putting a hand to his arm to settle his frantic breathing and beaming smile. Bokuto bristled under his touch but settled after the hold on his arm loosened. “What is?”

“The crane!”

_The crane._

Akaashi sucked in an eager breath and gave a curt nod, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fantastic.”

“It’s quite a nice piece of handywork, too.” Kenma commented, thumb stroking fondly underneath the cat’s chin.

“You think?”

“I do.” Kenma’s tone may have sounded uninterested but his eyes were shining in curiosity. “Just what are you up to, Akaashi-san?”

Akaashi took a seat at the circular table. Bokuto followed, folding his arms on top of the wood. He wasn’t wearing his jacket again. “You ever think about busting out?”

“Sure.” Kenma replied easily. He shifted the cat in his arms to raise her to the table, where she stood and stretched. Bokuto watched with bated breath, reaching out with a shaking hand to gently pet her.

“Think you’ll ever see your money again?”

Kenma watched the cat cross the table until it sat near Bokuto, stretching its legs and paws out before settling under the hand that was too big and far too gentle. “I’m a 30 year old man with 60 years left on my ticket. What do you think?”

“I’m thinking about going.” Akaashi’s tone lacked depth, feigning nonchalance.

“Well, there’s going, and there’s _going._ ” A pause. “Which one do you mean?”

“The one you think I mean.”

Kenma’s eyes were bizzare. They were almond shaped, with oval, cat-like irises, and when they looked directly into Akaashi’s they made something in his stomach lurch. “Two days inside and he’s already thinking about turning rabid.” Kenma maintained the eye contact before turning his gaze to Bokuto and the cat. “It’ll pass. It always does. I have bigger things to worry about at the moment. We all do.”

Akaashi followed Kenma’s field of vision which was looking over Bokuto’s shoulder. A group of men, all looking relatively passive other than the lanky redhead that lead the pack, crossed the basketball court towards the players. Oikawa, who had taken his jacket off and was only in his undershirt, hot and panting from physical exertion, watched them come with eyes that could pierce steel.

“Been in here long enough to know it when I see it.” A shorter man with bronzed skin and a bleached buzz-cut marched up to the group and shoved Tendou at the shoulders, who looked positively elated. “The calm before the storm. Seijoh and Shiratorizawa will be going at each other real soon. Everybody chooses sides and a lot of guys bleed.”

“Is there a reason?”

“One of Shiratorizawa’s men tried to jump Oikawa two weeks ago.” Then, from the pack emerged a man who, at first glance, Akaashi hadn’t noticed. When the blonde realised he was walking towards them he shoved Tendou away and snarled, backing down, like a dog. “Got in a real nasty fight. Iwaizumi’s been in the SHU for the past two weeks. He almost killed one of their men.”

“Go after the head if you want to damage the heart, I guess.”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t be so bad if Seijoh were a pack of snakes instead of a Hydra.”

Akaashi huffed a laugh under his breath. _Take one head out and have two come back._ He averted his eyes from the scene once two guards started shouting from the towers at the two packs, aiming their guns wildly. Oikawa was taunting the other man, who remained impassive. Akaashi assumed it was Ushijima, the same man the card-shuffling man had name dropped earlier. He was broad and terrifying, looking absolutely unaffected by Oikawa’s undoubtedly cutting words.

“What’s going to happen?”

“I don’t know.” Kenma answered honestly. To his right Bokuto looked positively enthralled with the cat, and surprisingly, Kenma had made no move to retrieve it. Akaashi reached over to smooth over its head with the back of his knuckle.

“Isn’t she soft, Akaash?”

“Yes, she is.”

“I love her, Kenma.”

“Yes, Bokuto-san. You told me that earlier, too.”

Akaashi let him stay there for a few moments before standing and stepping out of the bench surrounding the table. “Bokuto, do you mind walking me over to the drain where you saw the crane?”

He looked reluctant to leave the cat. He handed her back over to Kenma, who took her gently with a nod of thanks. Bokuto joined Akaashi’s side and strolled them across the grass. “Hey, Akaash?”

“Yes?”

“Why did you tell Kenma we’re leaving?”

Akaashi considered the question for a moment. He didn’t reply at first, simply following Bokuto’s lead. “Remember what I said yesterday, about needing people’s help?” Akaashi said. “He used to work for Kuroo. I don’t think they speak any more.” He spared a look to Kenma, briefly, who sat alone at the table. “But due to the fact that people still take him for D. B. Cooper the guards let him use their microwave in the staffroom.”

“Kenma’s been here for a long time.” Bokuto paused momentarily to count on his fingers. “Six years, maybe. I reckon he wants to get out as much as any of you do.”

“Were you here when he arrived?”

“‘Course I was! I don’t reckon I heard him speak the first eight months.”

“Bokuto-san, how long _have_ you been here?”

“Akaash, look!”

Akaashi paused where he was walking to realise the texture had shifted beneath his feet, and that he was standing over the metal slats of the drain. He took a step back to peer into the drain and, just as he had expected, the white paper crane was floating on the water bed. “The pipe is working, then.” He said, crouching down to squint at the paper before standing up. “Well done, Bokuto-san.”

“Shall we show Kuro?”

“He isn’t allowed over here.” Akaashi glanced at the segregated part of the yard. “I’m not sure if he’ll be allowed outside today, either.”

“What? How come?” Bokuto’s tone shifted to one of worry. He neared the fence but made no move to go too close, looking for Kuroo in the empty space.

“He spoke back to one of the guards. Sugawara-san, I think.”

Bokuto looked over his shoulder and met Akaashi’s with a troubled frown. “Why would he do that? Suga’s a nice guy.”

From across the yard Akaash watched Sugawara stroll the outer perimeter of the area, sunglasses tucked into his hairline. His skin glowed rosy pink in the pale lighting of the morning, and briefly, Akaashi wondered what Bokuto admired so much about the man who’d shown nothing but abuse of power so far. “You can ask him once he comes out of solitary confinement, if you’d like.”

* * *

Akaashi ran his pinched finger up the length of the toothpaste tube, emptying the contents into the basin of the toilet. Bokuto hung a handheld mirror from between the bars, keeping an eye out for any guards. From across the hall Oikawa was peering into their cell. Once he’d emptied two tubes he rolled them and tucked them into his pillowcase. “Done.”

“Awesome--my arm was getting real tired!”

Akaashi watched Bokuto lay the mirror back onto the bed, stretching his arms above his head until his broad shoulders popped. He caught himself staring a beat too long, instead turning back to the basin. When he went to flush the toilet, no water came.

“Bokuto-san?”

“Yeah?”

“The toilet won’t flush.”

“Did’ya clog it?”

Akaashi bolted upright at the sound of a siren that wailed from the main doors. He pulled the chain again in panic, barely registering the riot that erupted and washed over the area like a tsunami within what felt like split seconds. Bokuto bolted across the room in an instant and tucked the mirror underneath the mattress, eyes flitting between the door and the top bunk. “Shit!”

“What is it?” Akaashi asked, pulling the chain a third, a fourth time.

“They’ve shut down the waters so you can’t flush your contraband!”

“We’ve got nothing to worry about then, so long as they don’t check the cell.”

“Says you!” Akaashi bristled at the tone of his voice. Bokuto rifled through the mattress to pull out a small metal tin that he quickly threw through the bars and into the centre of the valley between the cells. Akaashi’s startled eyes watched as the other inmates did the same, throwing papers, tied-up sandwich bags and sharp splints into the accumulating chaos of weapons and contraband.

In a flurry of movements heavily armed guards burst through the door, setting Alsatians loose to track a scent. “Under the table!” Akaashi fumbled at the sharp order, moving to the table to run his hand underneath the rim like he had before, once again finding nothing. Bokuto barrelled him to the side and dropped to his knees to free what looked like a plastic shard fastened to a bundle of string and cork from the table’s leg.

He handed it to Akaashi, dashing to the other side of the desk. “What the hell is this?” Akaashi said, turning the weapon over in his hands.

“It’s insurance!” Bokuto was rifling through something else among the pile of books, swiping them carelessly off the surface of the desk. He was panting, his hands were shaking, and his hair had fallen loose around his face. “Where are they?” He demanded, turning to Akaashi with wild, panicked eyes. “Where did you move them?”

“Bokuto-san, hold on a second,” Akaashi raised his hands in minor defence. Bokuto didn’t look aggressive but instead frantic, holding Akaashi by the shoulders. ”I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“You must’ve seen them.” He said, shaking him by the shoulders. “My Bible--did you move it?” Akaashi opened his mouth to speak, to defend, before a click of heels neared their door and stopped directly outside. Akaashi met blithe, brown eyes.

“ _Akaashi_ , what do you have there?” Sugawara asked, tapping the bars with his baton in the general direction of his hand. His arm was poised above Bokuto, still clutching the shiv. The pressure on his shoulders loosened as Bokuto stepped away.

“Nothing, boss.”

“Really? You sure you’re not going to go extracurricular with it,” Sugawara tilted his head, “stick a C.O. with it, maybe?”

“I can assure you that that is not the case.” Akaashi looked down to the weapon in his palms; a shabby job, with the blade blunt and jagged. To his side he watched Bokuto blanch, sweat gathering on his temples.

“I beg to differ.”

“Is there a problem here, Deputy?”

Sugawara turned from the bars to the sound of the voice, straightening his position back to the posture it was before. “Got a shank in here, Warden.”

The man stepped into view: immaculately dressed, save for the top button of his suit that laid open. He peered into the cell between both Akaashi and Bokuto, lips pressed together in a frown. His hair was greying at the temples, but his eyes were warm and gentle, the colour of soil after the rain. He regarded Akaashi with a nod. “Is that yours?”

Bokuto shifted uncomfortably at his side. Akaashi said nothing, sparing a look to Bokuto, who looked on the brink of a nervous breakdown. His skin had an eerie tint of grey, and his knuckles had turned white. His face shuttered, taking a shuddering breath before walking forward and plucking shiv from Akaashi’s hand to place Sugawara’s waiting palm. Akaashi said nothing, watching the man outside the bars tut disapprovingly. “You know, I expected better of you.”

“I know.” He said, voice quiet. “I’m sorry, Suga.”

“Come along. Don’t make this trickier than it is.” Sugawara said, sounding resigned, like a disappointed teacher.

“Please don’t make me go back in there.”

“Bokuto…”

“Please, Suga-san, Daichi-san.” His voice had taken a child-like undertone, and it was wobbling so viciously the words were becoming indecipherable. “It’s so quiet. So, so quiet in there. Sometimes I can hear...”

“This is illegal contraband.” The man to Sugawara’s right commented, brows gathering. “I’m sorry, but it’s either here or--”

“No,” Bokuto cut him across, eyes manic, “no, this is fine. This is fine. I’ll take the SHU, I’ll take the SH--.”

Sugawara faltered for a moment before the doors slid open, and Bokuto gathered a few papers that had fallen out across the floor before exiting obediently, like a dog with its tail between its legs. Akaashi said nothing, watching in disgusted awe as Sugawara clasped Bokuto on the shoulder and nudged him down the stretch of the hallway. The bars shut behind him.

The Warden regarded Akaashi from the distance between them, sucking his teeth. “Was that his?”

He considered his words carefully. “It wasn’t mine.” Akaashi shifted away from the bars just slightly to straighten the mattress Bokuto had turned over during his haste. He didn’t tidy the rest, scared of whatever else had been hid being found out.

“I see.” He said, tone intrigued. “Well, I shan’t keep you too long. Good day.”

Akaashi was left alone, then. He cleaned up the soiled papers that had been folded and crumpled in Bokuto’s haste, laying them to weigh flat underneath a hard-cover Bible that had slid under the beds before setting the stool back into place. He’d been mildly surprised that Bokuto had owned a weapon, despite the fact that he knew he’d earned his place inside Karasuno for one reason or another. The morning that followed was quieter than usual.

* * *

 

“Where is he?”

“The SHU.” Akaashi said, stuffing his hands into his pockets, head turned to watch a few inmates square up against one another around the weight rack.

“What?” Kuroo said, voice hardened. “What the fuck is Bokuto doing in there?”

“Something about the water being shut off, so he tried to get rid of a shiv he had kept underneath the table.”

“ _Fuck._ ” Kuroo groaned, forehead falling against the chain link fence with a jangle. “How long is he there?”

“No clue. My best guess is a week or so.”

Kuroo kicked the fence, backing away to run his hands through his hair. “Christ’s sake--why’s he own something like that? I’ve never seen him hurt anyone before. I’d give him credit, but I didn’t think he wass capable enough to make something like a _shiv_.”

Akaashi made a quiet sound in reply, shrugging. “There’s nothing we can do. I’m frustrated, too. That’s setting the plan back two weeks, give or take. The only thing we can do is make up for it in other areas.”

Kuroo shot an impatient glance, signalling for him to continue.

Akaashi moved closer out of earshot of other inmates. “I need to get one of the bolts holding the bleachers up out of the woodwork.” He shifted to look over to the bleachers that lined the yard, occupied by a few groups that sat in clusters, including Tendou, who seemed to be on the verge of receiving a punch from a very agitated blonde.

“I had half unscrewed it but had to leave it. With that, I need to grind it to a wrench that’ll fit the toilet’s bracket’s. If I do that, then…” Akaashi turned to look Kuroo in the eye, who looked only as marginally frustrated as he had before, “then I can remove the entire thing, and enter the facility hall between the cells.”

“You sure seem confident in a plan you haven’t yet tested.”

“It doesn’t need testing.”

“You sure about that?” Kuroo cocked his head lazily, motioning towards the redhead that still had that tiny boy hanging from his pocket like a puppy. “Tendou over there is fresh out the Nuthouse. He hasn’t been assigned a cell yet, ‘cause the O.P.s deemed it dangerous after he got the shit beat out of him from Iwaizumi. Reckon they’ll stick him with you.”

“No.”

“Oh, yes.” Kuroo scratched his chin, prickly from lack of care. “This place is crammed. As soon as a cell’s free they fill it. Iwaizumi’s still in the SHU for the next few days, so I don’t see why they wouldn’t.”

Cold dread spread through Akaashi’s veins like lead, heart sinking down to his stomach and bounding back up to his throat. The bruise on his face still shone a deep plum. “He mentioned something about the--the _Nuthouse_. What’s that? Somewhere they send the mentally disturbed?”

“Something like that.” Kuroo had resorted to watching Tendou over Akaashi’s shoulder, too. “They have different hours to us out here. Spend most of their time drawing and fucking lazing around. There’s so many things wrong with Tendou I have no idea how he recovered from whatever he was suffering with. I guess they just let him out. Next thing you know he’s tried to jump one of Seijou’s pack leaders.”

“Silly boy.” Akaashi commented, wrapping his jacket around himself tighter as a particularly harsher gust of wind blew. Even after a day of the awful climate Akaashi half wondered if the weather was partial to the prison only, or if all of the town was this miserable. “Kenma said there’s going to be bloodshed in a few days.”

“He did, did he?” Kuroo’s tone was impassive, eyes briefly flickering over to the lone man before returning to Tendou across the grassy yard. “It’s no surprise. I haven’t been here all that long but there’s a real bloodlust between those two gangs. Something about Oikawa’s ‘seething hatred’ for Ushijima. I’m not really the person to ask about that. Maybe you should ask him yourself.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Maybe he’ll tell you, then, instead. If you ask nicely.” Kuroo muttered, a grin splitting his face.  “Princess at three o’clock.”

Akaashi turned his shoulder to watch Oikawa approach the fence separating Kuroo from the rest of the yard. His hair bounced in his step, and his clothes fit him all a little too tightly. The trousers reached his calves, which were shaven. “Good morning, Pretty Boy-chan, Tetsu-chan.” He greeted.

“Damn, Iwaizumi must be treating you well. Is that the commissary’s exclusive label of perfume I can smell?”

“Har har. If only you were as likeable as you are funny, Tetsu-chan.”

“Is there any reason we should have expected to be graced by your presence this fine morning?” Kuroo asked, sucking his teeth. “I don’t recall a charity visit from Karasuno’s fairy being on my daily agenda.”

“Fortunate for both of us I have no wish to fraternize with a man such as yourself today.”

“What, ruggedly handsome and charming?”

“Pond scum could charm me more than you would.” Oikawa commented, turning to Akaashi, regarding him with a dazzling smile. His arm looped with Akaashi’s. “Mind if I steal your friend?”

“I sure do. What do you want?”

“I want to know what funny business is going on between you two.”

“What, you want in on this? I’ll tell your boyfriend you’ve been doing the naughty behind his back.”

“If only anyone cared enough to speak with you. Maybe a charity visit is going to quell that unattainable thirst you have for men and women out of your league. Is that why you retorted to fucking prostitutes?”

“Your pompous aura is stifling.” Akaashi commented monotonously.

Oikawa’s smile stretched to a murderous grin, eyes crinkling just a little too much at the corners. “Pretty-Boy-chan, shall we go for a walk?”

Oikawa hooked his arm with Akaashi’s and strolled a small walk away from Kuroo, their linked arms drawing attention. Once seated at an empty table Oikawa broke the hold and sat Akaashi down with a shove to the shoulder. He stood over him, pulling out a piece of paper that had been folded unfolded, creased in certain areas. The shine of his eyes and faux friendly atmosphere dissipated like a bomb. “What the _fuck_ is this?”

Akaashi plucked the paper from his fingers, gently folding it back into the shape it was before. “You have something I need, so I gave you something you need. I imagine you read the paper?”  
“Don’t play games with me.” He snatched the origami from his palm and ripped it in half three times before dropping it to the ground and twisting the ball of his foot over the pile. Akaashi watched in mirth. “Who told you to do that, huh? Who gave you,” He jabbed the space between his collarbones with his finger, “the right to speak to me in the first place?”

“We’re speaking now, aren’t we? What difference does it make?”

_“Who sent you?”_

Akaashi took Oikawa’s finger that was incessantly stabbing him in the chest and held it between his fingers and palm, holding it away from his chest. “No one sent me. I just need a favour of you.”

“Hah?” Oikawa snatched his hand from Akaashi’s, nose scrunching at the bridge. He leaned his upper body forward to press in close. Oikawa smelt like cheap aftershave. “Go on, then. You’ve caught my attention.”

“Kageyama Tobio has resurfaced again in China. He’s pressing charges, but you already know that.” Oikawa’s face shuttered, and Akaashi swore a vein in his forehead pulsed. “I’m not your enemy. Don’t make this into something you don’t want it to be.”

Oikawa scrutinized him through his long lashes and pretty eyes. He only had an inch or so over Akaashi in height, but his ginormous attitude and ego seemed to fill the space his body didn’t. He must’ve been standing there for what felt like minutes before Oikawa moved, taking a step back from Akaashi and straightening himself out to his full height. “You’re not getting anything until I get Tobio-chan’s location. Simple as. Where’s your proof, huh?”

“My proof were those coordinates. Only _you_ and he knew those. Well, up until recently.” Akaashi said. “I know you met with your sister and your cousins yesterday, after you received that piece of paper from me. I know they told you that Kageyama’s resurfaced, and that he’s planning to throw you right under the bus with all the dirty little details about the murder you commit. I bet you were shitting yourself, weren’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t be here, right now.”

Oikawa said nothing, face scarily impassive, before he huffed a laugh and taunted: “How observative. What do you have to prove?”

“I also know for a fact that you aren’t a murderer. You’re a deluded stalker. A glorified accomplice.” Akaashi leered, squaring himself off. He looked horrified, delighted, aroused. “You’re the one who instigates all of those attacks. You know what? I don’t think you’ve ever killed a single person in your life, and you never will.”

Oikawa looked appalled, holding a hand to his chest in mock offence. He cackled, regarding Akaashi with wild eyes, slightly manic. “What ever gave you _that_ idea?”

“You have some sort of sick power kink. The concept of sheepdogging men and women into pens before you set the wolf on them. That’s what you do, isn’t it? _Isn’t it?_ ”

Oikawa looked moments away from indulging in Akaashi. The bell to symbol recess’ end rang above the yard, piercing, but it didn’t waver the bubble around the two of them. The flame in Oikawa’s eyes tamed a fraction at the sound, and he stepped away, wiping his mouth.

“P.I., Oikawa-san.” Akaashi said, backing away from him. “And you’ll have the address. That I promise to you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm trying to remodel the story using different characters but within the same position as the original cast? so if this is any clarification to those who've watched prison break these are the roles:
> 
> michael - akaashi  
> lincoln - kuroo  
> sucre/haywire - bokuto  
> john - iwaizumi and oikawa  
> charles - kenma  
> t-bag - tendou  
> c-note - ushijima  
> bellick - sugawara  
> warden pope - daichi
> 
> hope this clears up any confusion :)


	4. Act II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the shutters close when he's around  
> the children shut their eyes  
> in fear of what they must surmise  
> when the all the gentlemen hang their heads down, down, down  
> yeah, Mr. Usher's on his way to Town
> 
> he'll have you hanging by a string  
> or noose if he prefers you'll perish  
> all your dreams become nightmarish  
> if you block his path or plan  
> yeah, Mr. Usher always gets his man
> 
> the dear hunter - mr. usher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for murder and explicit language

13/01/2007

Akaashi’s P.I. work for the day was standard to those at Karasuno一painting, wiring, cleaning; painstakingly boring, even for someone like Akaashi, who took pride in maintaining small details of appearance. After a monotonous morning spent repainting one of the cell blocks’ hallways lacquer white, he retired to the solidarity of his cell, the space expressionless in Bokuto’s absence. Dinner matched blander than that of yesterdays, as if it were a surprise, and he’d managed to skin the flesh off of his forefinger knuckle in a door. He’d been standing placidly over the sink, picking at the white paint crusted around his knuckles and cuticles for the past ten minutes. With nothing but his thoughts to occupy him he drifted in and out of a conscious nightmare of  _ what to do next, _ and  _ how are you going to fix this? _

“Don’t do this to yourself.” Akaashi chided sternly, watching himself in the dull shine of the stainless steel. His hair was flat and his skin shone. He squeezed his eyes shut and screwed the heels of his palms into his eyes until stars burst behind them, and in a haste to quell the pounding behind his skull he turned the tap on and cleaned his face, scrubbing at the skin of his forehead and cheeks until he was sure they were pink. The trips in the washrooms were brisk as he was still unsure as of the lay of the land, and hadn’t had enough time to properly clean his hair nor his face. At closer inspection in the poor reflection of the sink he saw that his jaw and neck were growing darker with stubble.

Akaashi patted his face with a towel, the texture of Weetabix, and stood straighter from his position over the sink in order to move to the desk to his right. He cast a wary glance over his shoulder, half expecting to meet another's gaze, before leaning over Bokuto’s strange collection of of books in fascination. As he’d speculated before all of the novels revolved around religious plot lines, and he had two copies of the Bible stacked between the paperbacks. The incident from earlier in the morning left Akaashi feeling unsettlingly intrusive when he picked up the Bible that had fallen underneath the bed in Bokuto’s blind search for  _ something _ ; belatedly Akaashi pieced together it must’ve been the book. He ran the pads of his fingers over the shallow gold scripture carved into the red leather as a soft frown creased his face.  _ Why was he so concerned over something like this? _ At closer inspection Akaashi noted that the contents of the book rattled. Morbid curiosity got the best over him and as he peeled back the cover he saw that the interior of the book had been hollowed out into a narrow rectangle and was filled with two yellow pill bottles. He laid the book on the table and freed one of the bottles, raising it to the light and squinting at the printed words.  _ Aripiprazole. _

“An anti-psychotic?” Akaashi breathed, turning over the bottle in his hands and watching the pills churn behind orange plastic. The bottle looked half empty. He set it on the table to scoop the other out of the hollow in the pages, reading _ Clozapine, _ just as empty as the prior. Akaashi tucked the two back into the empty slot of the book and pressed the closed Bible into the stack. 

Akaashi dazedly stood back, running his fingers through his hairline to pull the hair from his eyes in a poor effort to quell the shaking of his hands. For the first time in three days Akaashi felt at a loss of what to do, with Kuroo absent for the remainder of the afternoon and Bokuto gone for good reason. He had no idea what this man was capable of. Akaashi clenched his eyes shut when the bell to recess rang, and remembered with sudden dread that he had yet to retrieve the bolt from the bleachers. Given that it was still there. 

With a start Akaashi raised to both feet and paced the room as the cell doors opened routinely, hurriedly deciding  _ how _ he’d approach the situation, without Bokuto’s presence and the definite bad blood brewing between him and Tendou. This time he waited until most men had cleared from their cell before entering the queue of inmates bustling down the cell’s corridor and through to the yard. Afternoons at Karasuno rang drab; the temperatures had dropped and the sun was to sagging in the sky. 

_ Neither of them are here with you. _ Akaashi moved through the grass swiftly, curling his fingers into his palm to keep them warm. Their place in his pocket looked more suspicious.  _ You won’t have anyone to look out for you. Not this time. _

The earth beneath his feet sunk a little, having softened and moistened in the rain. The wood of the bleachers was still damp; he felt underneath the benches until his fingers bumped against the bolt that was miraculously jutting out in the same position he’d left it in, as evident and obvious to anyone that cared to look. Akaashi pulled himself to sit and swiftly began to make do of unscrewing the bolt from it’s nut with the 100 yen coin pinched between his fingers, heart racing in his throat. From across the yard he spotted the steadily growing cluster of men nearing him, the squelch of rubber growing louder in his direction. He screwed it free; Akaashi’s breath hitched, and in a blind haste he tucked it up into his sleeve but it was too late. Tendou’s leering, smarmy face peered up at him in barely-concealed delight.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Tendou chided, closing the distance between his crowd and the bleachers with the smaller boy still trailing behind like a lost puppy. “Thought we had an understandin’?” Tendou sucked his teeth, brow quirked and questioning, stepping one foot on the lowest bench of the bleacher. He leaned both arms forward to cross on top his raised leg, hands draping loosely over his thighs. His expression radiated morbid mirth, like he was enjoying this, despite his threats the day before. “This here’s for the family. Made’t pretty here you ain’t blood.”

The fire in Akaashi’s gut ran cold when the narrowed pair of cooper eyes flicked to Akaashi’s right hand, where he’d tucked the bolt up into his sleeve. “Now, how ‘bout you hand that over.” Akaashi’s standard impassive gaze hardened at the leer. He let the bolt slip from up his sleeve to his hand, clutching it between his fingers, mildly threatening. “Unless you want in?” Tendou prompted, standing his other foot on the lower bench in order to move closer to Akaashi on the bleachers. “Like I said, I got a whole ‘nother pocket over here for you.”

Akaashi chortled. In a terrifying wave of emotions the smug look from Tendou’s face dropped; his cheeks hollowed and his eyes lost their gloss and for a grim second Akaashi had no idea as to what Tendou was thinking. “No, thank you.” He stood and with as little visible reluctance as possible handed the bolt into Tendou’s waiting palm, keeping his tone of voice casual and professional despite the raging boil of mortification burn his throat.

The redhead turned the bolt over in his dry, chapped palms, eyes scrutinizing the object before returning to Akaashi, who met him with an impassive stare. “Nice lookin’ piece of steel. With a bit of work you could do some serious damage with it.” Tendou complimented, almost gloating as he rolled the weight between his lithe fingers, as if he was considering its value. “Question is, who’s you planning on damaging with it?”

Akaashi made no indication that he was going to entertain. Tendou stood both feet onto the step underneath Akaashi, raising to his full height. “I seen you with Seijoh, y’know. Ushijima  _ despises _ them, ‘xcept for Oikawa. Reckons his services are more valued over here, but between us,” Tendou motioned vaguely to the cluster of men over his shoulder, “we fucking hate them. But maybe you’re one of them fence-sitters? ‘S far as I’m aware that Fairy hasn’t taken much to you at all. You’re a rejected pup.”

“I don’t doubt you also fit into those categories, Tendou-san? Especially with that girlfriend of yours. It must be tricky to gain a companion when all you have to offer is a poorly-veiled threat of security.”

“Girl scouts.” One of the guards Akaashi hadn’t seen before was rounding the corner, a rifle held between his arms. Both parties flinched at the disruption, and seeing as Akaashi had his back to the fence he had but the steady line of Tendou’s gaze to follow for guidance as to where the C.O. was. “Is there a problem over there?”

Tendou didn’t react for a moment, the same distant expression clouding his face before cocked his head and drew a long yawn, stretching his arms above and behind his head. One of his men, tall and angry-looking, eased the bolt from his hand and tucked it into Tendou’s back pocket. Those harsh copper eyes met Akaashi’s once he felt the weight in his trousers. He wonders if it got colder outside because he wants to shiver. “I think we’ll keep a hold on this, if this is fine with you?”

“Hey, I’m not going to ask you again! Let’s break up the party, ladies!”

“You heard the man, Curls.” Tendou said, giving him a nudge to the shoulder. “Get along.”

Akaashi regarded him once more, coldly, before standing up from the bench and stepping down into the grass. The herd of men, other than a select few, looked more interested in the heated exchange more than in Akaashi, and for a moment Akaashi wondered what exactly Tendou’s role in the gang was. Strangely, like before, Akaashi saw no sight of the tall, olive-toned man he’d seen the day prior, and didn’t stick around long enough to find out either. He shouldered past the men who blocked his way and found himself stood like a deer in the headlights, knuckles white with frustration. In a last bid of hope he scanned the yard and saw Oikawa and his lackeys clearing sandbags into one of the sheds, finishing up P.I. duty. Akaashi ignored the eyes on his back and the hoots and hollers from the bleachers and instead marched to the fence and gate where Oikawa was speaking to another. When he caught sight of Akaashi he went quiet, murmured something to the other, and sauntered over to where Akaashi stood, lost, at the fence.

“What’s it take to shake down another inmate? To get something he’s taken from you?”

Oikawa didn’t miss a beat, crossing his arms over his chest. “It would take Kageyama.”

Akaashi shifted against the fence and sneaked a glance to the opposite side of the yard, where Tendou and his lackeys were still jeering and watching. Oikawa followed his gaze in sudden curiosity before it honed back in on Akaashi, expression flat. “I’ll give you his location. I promise you that; when the time is right.”

“The time,” Oikawa punctuated, “is right now.”

“No, the time is right when you have myself and a few token others on a specific P.I. schedule.” Akaashi turned back to regard the man in front of him. The flat expression had shifted; Oikawa looked impatient. “You’re sitting on life without parole. You’re never going to stand outside those walls again, unless you use someone. Someone who knew a way out.”

“I say I’ve heard nothing but bullshit.” Oikawa remarked with a scoff, eyes fluttering half-massed. “That location could mean  _ fuck all _ . You think I’d do a favour for someone who’s speaking out of their ass?”

The bargaining chip of Kageyama’s location was near priceless behind the walls surrounding Karasuno. “Are you sure about this?” Akaashi pressed. Oikawa’s expression was unfaltering, unimpressed. Akaashi pursed his lips before bowing politely and exiting the situation, heaving a shaky breath to try and quell the anxiety that bubbled up through his chest to squeeze his throat.

_ You’ve no bolt. _

_ I could get another one. _

_ Too risky. Shiratorizawa sit in that corner of the yard, and you’ve already provoked Tendou. Now Oikawa, too. _

_ He’ll come around eventually. He’s still guaranteed to be interested in the location. _

_ Will he? _

“Back away from the fence, inmate.” Sugawara called from the other side of the chain links, knocking his baton against the metal. Akaashi focused his eyes and realised he’d trailed the perimeter of the yard to linger where Kuroo was usually held behind the segregated area. He stepped away from the barrier, meeting the scrutinizing brown gaze across the small distance that separated them. Bokuto was rightーthe only thing that really held the difference between both guards and inmate was the badge. Akaashi could easily take down Sugawara within a matter of seconds, had he the chance to. “You’re quite the piece of work, y’know that? Earning a dead man an even longer stay in solitary.”

“Kuroo-san is a stupid man.” Akaashi remarked blithely. “He brought that upon himself.”

“He’d been right as rain before you got here.” Sugawara retorted, leering. “And now you managed to send Koutarou down to seg. ‘You proud of yourself?”

Akaashi made absolutely no move to reply, simply matching Sugawara’s intense gaze with one of feigned disinterest. When Sugawara opened his mouth to speak again Akaashi beat him to it. “Are you sure it’s wise to be conversing with inmates like this?”

Sugawara’s leer morphed between a look of surprise, question, before sharpening into a piercing jeer. “If I were you I’d stop running my mouth, inmate.” Akaashi retained his impassive expression but allowed the corner of his mouth to twitch up, which lit a furious blaze behind the candle of Sugawara’s eyes. “Unless you want to get thrown into the SHU, too. Disrespecting a guard like that. How dare you.”

“I don’t think the warden would be happy knowing the Deputy is threatening inmates.” Akaashi remarked, knocking Sugawara from his shallow pedestal. “Nor would he be happy knowing you’re brandishing a melee weapon inside a closed area to an inmate. Why, that’s a threat, that is. A Code 17 violation, if I’m correct. I think,” Akaashi began, “but feel free to correct me. Seeing as I’m the one running my mouth.”

On cue a single drop of rainwater landed on Akaashi’s shoulder. He looked at it, and gently smoothed over the spot that had turned navy against the blue over-shirt.  _ Pathetic fallacy, _ Akaashi supplied weakly. He offered Sugawara a lazy smile and a wave before hiking his hood up and disappearing further into the yard, once again, feeling a pair of eyes pierce daggers into his shoulders.

* * *

The visiting room was a sad, remote chamber, with metal furniture and peeling taupe walls. When Oikawa had began his visits to Karasuno it had always looked ran down, unwelcoming, drab. When he’d first visited Iwaizumi, dressed in prison garb that stood out against his bronzed skin he’d commented on the disgusting conditions the room had. When he’d been visited by ex-coworkers he explained how luxurious it looked in comparison to Karasuno’s prehistoric facilities, and that the trousers simply never fitted properly, and where was his tailor?

“Kunimi-chan.” Oikawa greeted. “It’s an honour. What’re you doing here?”

Both faces opposite Oikawa blanched momentarily within his presence, which Oikawa noted with delight. “Well, I, erm. Just thought we’d fraternize.” Kunimi gestured vaguely for Oikawa to sit down, which he blatantly ignored, watching him with that horrible gaze he had whenever he was scrutinizing. Kunimi was dressed smartly, business-appropriate, eyes placid.

The man to Kunimi’s left, who vaguely resembled a turnip, shifted anxiously in his chair under the sweeping gaze Oikawa directed at him. “You look...”

“Look what?” Oikawa prompted.

The man rearranged himself in the plastic chair, squirming like a bug. “Like everybody’s been saying. You’ve got noーno respect about you.”

Oikawa laughed darkly. He lowered himself to the table, lacing his piano fingers together and regarding the two men across from him with scathing glares. “You shouldn’t talk to me like that, Kindaichi-chan. You used to pick up my laundry.”

Kindaichi visibly swallowed and grounded himself. “Not any more, Oikawa.”

“Tooru, word is that someone in here knows where Kageyama Tobio is, and you’re not doing anything about it.” Kunimi interjected, pinning Oikawa in his spot with his lackluster eyes. Oikawa was visibly taken aback by the bold approach, propping his chin on top of his laced fingers, brows raised just a fraction to show his mild surprise. His face relaxed to its usual contorts, then, and he shifted his gaze to the guard armed at the door before it returned to the pair of ex co-workers at the table.

“I’m working on it.”

“Well you’re not working on it fast enough. Apparently Tobio’s ‘coming up for air’ again. Next monthーa congressional hearing.” Oikawa remained silent. “Now, if he testifies at that hearing? A lot of people are going down. Including me. Now, I’ve known you a long time; our wives are friends, our nieces go to the same Catholic school. It would be a shame if anything were to happen to your family. I know my kids would miss them.”

Oikawa blanched. Both men watched him underneath the poor fluorescent with a strange sense or urgencyーnear desperation, with sweat beading across their forehead, though that was mainly Kindaichi. They were just as anxious as Oikawa was about Kageyama and his faceless testimony that most definitely guaranteed a large majority of Oikawa’s men penalties. Or worse, in Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s case. When he spoke again his voice lacked any semblance of warmth. “You don’t need to do this.”

“Yes, Oikawa.” Kunimi said. “I do.”

“I’ll get this guy. We’ll get Tobio-chan. I just haven’t  _ done _ anything, ‘cause I can’t figure out the guy on the inside. No idea who he is, what he wants out of this all, or why he’d go to the trouble to research something  _ you both _ couldn’t competently do.” Oikawa stated. He paused to gather his thoughts before continuing, letting the warmth seep back into his voice despite his best efforts at remaining impassive. “Iwa-chan’s in solitary, and Mattsun reckons we just corner him and see what happens. I’m as desperate as you both are.”

“Who is he?” Kindaichi prompted, still sitting as stiff as he was five minutes ago against the plastic backing of the chair. 

Oikawa raised a manicured nail to bite between his teeth, frowning down at the scuff marks across the table’s surface in a poor bid to try and collect what he could remember. “He’s connected to Kuroo Tetsurouーhe’s on death row for selling information to international government leaders about classified information. And he’s  _ adamant _ that I secure them both a catered job on P.I..” When his gaze turned up to meet the ones of the men across from him he noted with cold fear that both looked wholly unimpressed. “And if I  _ do _ , there’s no guarantee he’s got a correct location. He told me Tobio-chan’s in China.”

Both Kindaichi and Kunimi shared a troubled look between them. Oikawa’s gut churned when the cold realization dawned on him that  _ he was right. _

“Well, for everyone’s sake, I hope you’re careful about how you approach this.” Kunimi replied. “‘Cause you’ve got a month shit hits the fan.”

“I know.”

A pause, then: “Be well, Oikawa.”

“Thank you.” Oikawa remained seated at the table as the two suited man left. His hand trembled in his mouth before he tore off the skin from around his nail and stood from the table, hands thrusting down to his sides. At the gentle nudge a guard pressed to his shoulder Oikawa scoffed and followed him to the door.  _ All hell be damned, _ Oikawa thought.  _ All hell be damned with the consequences.  _

* * *

15/01/2007 _  
_

_ Run, run, don’t stop, you’re limping, there’s blood on the floor and you’ve left your satchel at the windowsill; they’re going to find it; they’re going to find you. _

_ Akaashi sprinted through the kitchen, hip catching the table in his haste, knocking over a cold mug of coffee that shattered against the marbled tiling, liquid seeping into the grouting. He yanked his coat from the banister and climbed out of the window’s fire exit. His breath gathered in curling white clouds as he heaved, gaze twisting left, then right, before he stumbled down the metal stairs leading into the alleyway outside of his apartment. _

_ “Fuck, fuck.” Akaashi ran his hair blindly to the close-cropped curls, eyes manically scanning the street before he took off down the side street. His feet pounded the puddles and asphalt, running until his chest was wheezing from the cold air and exertion. Just a little further, just a little further-- _

A shout from the hallway directly outside of his bars startled Akaashi into wake, peering down from his position at the top bunk to a guard, coincidentally Sugawara, who opened the door to his cell. Akaashi pushed himself upright on his arm, pivoting to face the doors and the grimace of the officer, who looked mildly put-off by the figure to his right outside the bars.

“Akaashi.” Sugawara called, “Found you a new cellie.”

A man nudged past Sugawara to dump his cardboard box at the bottom bunk, turning to shine a flirtatious grin to the guard, who met him with partially disgusted eyes. He had an undercut, wavy and blonde, with auburn eyes that pored over Akaashi with delight. He couldn’t have been any older than 18. Before the door had even shut he was poised at the centre of the room with his hands on his hips and a peacock-like boldness about him. “Wow, how spacious!” He sang. Sugawara was rubbing hand sanitizer into his palms as the door shut, disappearing wordlessly around the corner, leaving Akaashi to stare at the man in subtle dislike. “Ain’t this nice 一d’you take the top bunk, or bottom? ‘Cause I quite like the top one; more roomy.”

“That one’s occupied.” Akaashi said drably. “So is the bottom one.”

“Huh?” He tilted his head in confusion, head flicking between the door and the man in front of him. “ _ Oh,  _ you’re a switch, are you? ”

“Both beds,” Akaashi repeated stiffly, shifting to swing his legs over the edge, “are occupied.” _ How pathetic, Keiji.  _ “I don’t speak Japanese well. Sorry.”

“Well, I just got here today, so I don’t know the lay of the land, but by the looks of it this room looks  _ pretty  _ not-occupied. The bed’s empty, ain’t it?”

“Temporarily.”

The boy stifled a laugh, clicking his tongue, the flash of silver just barely passing over his teeth before his face stretched into the same grin from earlier. “Wow. You’re a tough cookie, aren’t you? I’m Terushima Yuuji ーbut I’d let you call me Yuuji. Where’re you from?”

“Japanese isn’t my first language.” Akaashi repeated bleakly, looking thoroughly unimpressed with the figure at the foot of his bed. He slipped back down to lie against the headboard and picked up the novel he’d dozed off reading, green eyes skimming briefly over the page before they turned to the clatter that resounded as Teushima rifled through the books. “Don’t touch those.”

“Thought you didn’t speak Japanese.” Terushima replied with a smirk, swiveling on the stool he’d sat down on; legs apart, laid back. “Even though those books sure do  _ look _ Japanese. Say, do you know if there's any female guards here?” No reply. “Fine, alright. The silent treatment. Sure ain’t a nice way to treatー”

“Has anyone ever told you to shut your mouth?” Akaashi asked pointedly, eyes remaining on the page he was reading. “Because I’d do you a lot more good than harm, especially in this room. So, please, Terushima-san. If you don’t mind.”

Despite the fact that he hadn’t seen the expression Terushima wore, he’d heard the quiet noise of surprise. For the rest of the evening that followed Akaashi was only disturbed minutely by the odd pester or scrape of metal against the floor, suddenly suffocated by his thoughts once the man on the bed underneath settled in.  _ How am I going to dig while he’s here? I’ve already involved Bokuto-san, and there’s no doubt that if I even mention it to Terushima he’ll most likely run his mouth or demand to come along. I can’t remove that toilet from the wall without some suspicion if he’s always beside me.  _ Akaashi didn’t sleep for the remainder of the day.

* * *

16/01/2007

“Good morning, beautiful.”

Akaashi greeted Kuroo’s lopsided grin with a thunderous glare which seemed split wider up the sides of his face at the hostile reaction. “Woke up on the wrong side of the bed?” 

“I haven’t been in your presence within the last 24 hours and I already feel urged to pierce my windpipe.”

“Wow.” Kuroo whistled, tangling his fingers between the chain links, eyes sparkling. “Where’s that spunk come from? You’ve got more bags under your eyes than Kenma has of cocaine under his mattress. What happened?”

Akaashi’s palms screwed into his eyes to alleviate the dryness of them, wiping the sleep away harshly. “It’s all gone to shit.” He remarked, casting a cold glare to Kuroo, who at least had the decency to lose the grin at the look. “Fuckingー” He drew a shaky, deep breath through his teeth before exhaling out of his nose. “I lost the boltーTendou has it. God knows if I’ll find another. And Oikawa won’t budge; I have no idea how else I’m meant to gather the corrosive chemicals other than giving him what he wants. Bokuto’s locked up, and seeing as I haven’t managed to wheedle away at Oikawa, I can’t get those chemicals in order to corrode the pipes. Not that it’s any help, seeing as we can’t enter the room. And I’ve been assigned a new cellmate, who we  _ can’t  _ involve. I can’t do fuck all inside those walls if he’s in there, andー”

“Hey,” Kuroo countered, tone stony, “what’s that attitude for?”

“The  _ attitude, _ ” Akaashi countered, “is that I’m three steps behind. This plan isn’t working.”

“What experience do you have that involves anything to this scale?”

“I…”   


“Then, there you have it.” Kuroo said, as if it were simple. “You  _ don’t _ have experience. You’ve never set foot inside of a prisonーno criminal record, no suspicious history that’s public knowledge. And you were expecting this elaborate plan to go smoothly? With what little you had of information from the inmates themselves? Your eyes are too big for your stomach.”

Akaashi remained silent at the harsh words, eyes watery. Kuroo’s hard attitude dissipated at the look Akaashi gave him, and he heaved a sigh. “I don’t know  _ why _ Yaku thought it would be wise to do this.”

“Excuse me?”

“Look at you, Akaashi.” Kuroo chided, gesturing to the person in front of him. “How old are you? Twenty three, twenty four? And you’re attempting to break a death-row inmate out of a maximum-security prison?” He laughed, but it rang sad with pity. “I’ve tried to humour you, but you’ve landed yourself into some deep fucking shit, doing all of this.”

“I did this to myself, let me remind you.” Akaashi quipped. “I took this job. I am competentーjust overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed? Have you slept?” Kuroo said. When Akaashi didn’t reply he dragged a hand down his face, backing away to pace around a circle.

“Don’t give up on me that easily.” Akaashi said scathingly, scrubbing a tear from his cheek in his haste. “I’m not stupid. I  _ will _ do this.”

Kuroo laughed in Akaashi’s face, brow wrinkling in grief. “Christ, are you  _ that _ blind sighted? Give up. I’m not usually one for disappointing others, but if we’re being frank here, I think we both realise that this is wishful thinkingーto get out of here. It’s max security for a reason. If people were easily able to break out, then we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

They had little time to react before a whoop and a cheer gathered both attentions from the poignant argument to a corner of the yard. In what sounded like a burst of noise from one side and a swarm of movement in Akaashi’s peripheral a number of men from the basketball courts moved over to the gates where another man was being nudged through. He was shorter than the rest of them by an inch or so, but met them all with a blinding smile, swallowed by their herd. Then, from across the grassy plane, the crew of men occupying the bleachers stood. This time the taller, olive-toned man was with them.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Kuroo murmured, attention deviating from their heated exchange to the one across the yard.

“What is it?”

“You didn’t hear? Shit’s about to go down tonight. Least it is now.” Kuroo said, watching Oikawa kiss the man under the eyes and across the cheeks while the others scrubbed his hair. Akaashi noted distantly that it must be the man that gave Tendou the horrific bruise; the one that was suffering in segregation for the past few weeks. When Akaashi looked to Kuroo he realised the other was already watching him. “You best keep inside your cell when it kicks off.”

“It’s what Kenma said.” Akaashi recalled. He maintained their eye contact for just a beat before peeling away from the scene and moving away from Kuroo and the fence. They both watched the men move back to their place at the basketball court, where Oikawa seemed to glow in a way Akaashi hadn’t seen before. It was as if he was a soldier coming home from a war. 

“My best guess is that they’ll start a fight after second recess.” Kuroo suggested, arms crossed over his chest. For the first time Akaashi noticed he looked concerned, or rather unsure, with his thin brows drawn in and a crease between them. 

“This is it.” Akaashi remarked, suddenly, eyes distant but sharp. They turned to Kuroo, who met him with his own confused ones. “Don’t you see? The bolt. If...if there’s going to be a fight, then surely I have a chance to take it from Tendou. Giving he still has it.”

“You can’t.” Kuroo interjected, gaze turning stern, cold. “You’ll get  _ killed _ . I’ve seen this happen beforeーdon’t bother with this. Just...let it be. You’ll land yourself in it, and only God knows what anger those two stupid gangs have harbored against one another. I’m serious.”

“So am I.” Akaash’s pink fingers stuffed back into his pockets, taking a careful step backwards. The grass had dried out a little earlier, but it still sank underneath his feet. Kuroo looked a little angry and helpless behind the fence, then, where all he could do was watch as the other man backed away. Akaashi briefly passed over Kenma’s table, where he sat alone, and he joined without question. Kenma either didn’t notice or didn’t mind. He held his cat in his arms, but his gaze was in the distance, watching the crew of Shiratorizawa men congregate and shift. The wood’s rain-sodden, earthy smell grounded Akaashi. Tendou’s bruise had wilted into ugly browns and golds; two men were bickeringーthe angry-looking one with strange dip-dyed ends, and the one who was shuffling cards the day prior. At the opposing end of the yard a cluster of men seemed more at ease, obviously delighted by the presence of the returning member, but Akaashi bet it would be short lived. Up above a storm brewed, dandelion clouds melting grey.

* * *

 

“Heads up, cons!” Sugawara barked, marching into the hallway between both rows of cells with his arms behind his back, fingers laced. The cell doors opened to every cell on the top and bottom floor, as was routine, and each man stood outside his room for the role call in preparation for dinner. From across he saw both Oikawa and Iwaizumi step out, the latter looking bitterly down at one of the cells on the first floor of the area. The man to his side held his wrist and squeezed, to what Oikawa snarled and turned his gaze back to Sugawara, avoiding conflict. “Stand your gate!”

“It’s ‘boutta jump off.” Akaashi turned to Terushima, who was clicking his knuckles. Terushima turned to meet him in a wicked grin, and belatedly, Akaashi noticed he’d bandaged and padded his knuckles. _ Only 12 hours behind bars and he’s already cruising for danger. _ Akaashi met him with an unimpressed squint before turning his attention back to the man in the center of the room. From behind Sugawara another set of guards came out with clickers, and for a split second he allowed his gaze to deviate up to flicker across the rows of cells. The last cell on the second floor housed a man who was licking his lips, barely concealing the shiv in his right hand. His eyes were narrow and green and tapered in on Akaashi in quiet fascination, adjusting the sliver of jagged metal in his hand. Akaashi averted his eyes to stare straight ahead and made the mistake of meeting Oikawa’s gaze from across the room. He murmured something quietly in Iwaizumi’s ear, whose flint eyes suddenly honed in on his own green ones with something unreadable. Sweat gathered at the base of his neck. He quickly looked down to Kenma emerge from a cell on the first floor, holding his cat in his arms. Even he, who remained stoic the majority of the time, looked precautious. 

The tension stuck like glue to the inside of Akaashi’s throat. To his lower left one of the cellmates, the same angry looking man from Tendou’s posse earlier, stepped forward from the line and into the center of the room. His shoulders were squared off and his fingernails were bared. 

“Semi, get back on your number!” Sugawara barked sharply. 

Semi didn’t move. From a few cells down Akaashi noticed Kenma slowly back into his cell, eyes weary. Then, to his left, Terushima stepped forward, as did the reptilian-like man from the end cell, and the bleach buzzcut of one of Seijoh’s men, all near ravenous.

“I need backup.” One of the guards spoke into his microphone while Sugawara snarled the same order. Silence rang across the room, deafening, before the tension snapped like a tightly-wound coil and suddenly Semi burst forwards to tackle one of Seijoh’s men to the floor. Before Akaashi had time to comprehend the barked instruction Sugawara bellowed a wave of frenetic electricity engulfed the room like a tidal wave. Cons was grappling other cons: tossing over each other over railings, tackling, headbutting, knicking with a guttural roar. Akaashi swallowed around the glue in his throat but found he had no moisture in his mouth, and that his hands were pathetically empty. With Terushima gone, most likely to indulge in a fist-fight he turned to back into his cell before meeting face-to-face with one of Shiratorizawa’s own, who grasped him by the collar and pushed him backwards over the railings.

He landed on the concrete with a thud among the chaos, vaguely registering the ringing in his ears. Akaashi stumbled to his feet and sought cover in an empty cell as the ground titled underneath his feet, seeing that the stairs were teeming with inmates beating the daylights out of each other. The correctional officers had backed into the safety of the observatory. Kenma had stayed put in his cell, curled up underneath the top bunk. When Akaashi looked to the floor that swam beneath his feet he saw that it was freckled red.

He fell to the floor on unsteady legs, trying to regain his balance with poor effort. He’d always worked atrociously under unexpected pressure. From his right Akaashi watched in horror at his place on the floor a violent fistfight break out between Tendou’s girlfriend and the pink haired member of Seijoh. Akaashi didn’t know either of their names. A panicked wave of dread washed over him as he realised the bolt he’d handed over to Tendou was being brandished by the young boy, looking to stab aimlessly at the offender, who was struggling to restrain him. With swift violence another member of Seijoh appeared from the cluster of other inmates, clutching a shiv. He immediately plunged it once, twice, five times into the lower back of the Shiratorizawa man before he spasmed and fell in a crumpled heap. The dark-haired man gathered the paler, skinnier one in an arm before ushering them both off to the side in a hurry.

Akaashi felt and smelt bile rise in his throat. He stumbled with numb legs to pick up the bolt that was still clutched between his fingers, easing it out with his shaking hands, gentle with the corpse even though it couldn’t feel a thing. Glassy eyes stared back at him. Akaashi stood and clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle a cry, eyes searching for anyone in a close vicinity that was attempting to attack. In a hasty retreat Akaashi pushed his way up the stairs, past the men, to his cell, catching sight of Tendou, who shrieked at the sight of his partner on the floor. He gripped his hair and skidded forward to the body on the ground, shaking it with urgency as Akaashi backed away into the wall, clutching the bolt with dear life. 

He met the wild, stunned eyes of Tendou who let out a howl of fury before standing on both legs and stumbling towards the stairs, looking positively murderous. Akaashi didn’t register the alarm that sounded up above. Tear gas clouded the ground floor in a burst of smoke, and suddenly Akaashi registered that he was in his cell, unable to breathe, and grasping frantically at strands of his hair. When he pulled them away he saw curls of black nestled in his palms, caked with blood.

“You’re a dead man, Akaashi.  _ You hear me? You’re a dead man!”  _ Tendou bellowed from the carpet of tear gas, still clutching the lifeless body on the ground.

Akaashi took heaving breaths as he registered the red smeared down his shirt and hands. He fumbled across the bed for a towel and ran the bolt along the length of it to clean it, tucking it into his trouser leg in his haste. His hands shook violently, and he had no idea as to where Terushima had vanished to, but it was his last concern and only allowed himself to breathe once the gates shut and he was guaranteed momentary safety.

Akaashi drew to his full height and gripped onto his bed when his knees threatened to give way, peering down through the bars into the hallway below. Three bodies were strewn among the opaque white sheet. Akaashi looked up to the cell directly opposite and watched Iwaizumi clean off a shiv against a towel while Oikawa was tying a sheet to the bars, stained red where his hands dirtied the white linen pulling knots around the metal.

The ringing in his ears didn’t fade in the minutes, nor hours, that passed. He lost all concept of time, even when the cries of men began to die down, and found himself sitting on Bokuto’s bed with knees drawn to his chest. An alarm sang and he barely heard it, only registering the tapping of one of the guards’ batons against his cell. He stood dead on his feet and watched the main door to the cell block open, where the Warden marched in. His face was grave. The fine lines of his face looked deeper than they had days ago; his eyes appallingly disappointed.

“I really don’t know what to say to you, Gentlemen.”

Akaashi shifted from the bed to pull the buttons of his over shirt undone, slinging it to the side, where he didn’t have to look at the bloodstains. His chest still wheezed when he exhaled.

“I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, I tried to treat you with respect; you can’t even respect yourselves. There’s going to be a 48 hour lock down. No mess, no showers, no visitation.”

With trembling hands he turned the tap on and washed himself to his best ability clean of the blood, scrubbing it furiously until his skin grew angry, red, and raw. It burned.

“And I strongly suggest that you all learn to get along. Otherwise the time after that will be a week, and the time after that will be a month. Think about it.”

The clicks of his heels echoed through the room like a cacophony before he disappeared, and all cell doors shut. Akaashi carefully reached into his trousers and pulled the bolt back out. He grimaced at it. From across the room he noticed men cleaning themselves off, tucking items under beds, crying. South of him Oikawa had tied a sheet smeared with blood across the bars of their cell, concealing himself and Iwaizumi from the rest of the prison. Backing himself into the space at the end of the bed and the wall, away from the eyes of the other inmates, Akaashi lowered his hand. Then, slowly and methodically, he began to run the bolt’s blunt end into the concrete, back and forth. 

_ Push, pull, push, pull, push, pull, push… _

“You there, pretty?” Tendou leered from his cell at the bottom floor. Akaashi stopped his ministrations; his forearm burned with exertion, and he had to remind himself that Tendou couldn't see him. Then, he continued.

“I know you’re there. Just want you to know I’m coming for you. You’ve got nowhere to run. You’re trapped, in that little hole of yours.  _ Trapped, _ like a pig ready for slaughter.”

He kept his eyes clenched tight until the maroon behind his eyes turned black, and he couldn’t hear, or feel anything. He busied himself for hours on end with the ministration of chiselling the bolt into the tapered shape he needed. Halfway through the second day Akaashi stopped. He held the chiseled bolt up against the light and squinted, blowing the dust of the concrete away so that he had a clearer view. He hastily pushed up the sleeve of his undershirt and turned over his hand so his forearm was poised in front of him. Slowly, Akaashi lowered the head of the bolt, ground into the shape of an octagon, against the yellow of the daisy spiralling up his arm. When it touched it to the centre and filled into the space perfectly he felt the tension bleed from his shoulders euphorically.

_ “Why’ve you chosen a daisy?” Komi asked, tracing a finger over the detailing when Akaashi held out his arm. _

_ “The center, here,” Akaashi said, pointing to the yellow of it, “is the facet shape of the toilet’s fittings, or screws. I need that bolt, the 1121147 that’s built into the bleachers. I can file it down into the shape that fits these measurements, then I can unscrew the fastenings of the toilet from the wall, and remove it from the wall. Behind there is the alleyway between cells that leads to the ventilation system.” _

The bolt slid beautifully into the nut. Akaashi held his breath as he slowly turned it anti-clockwise and watched it begin to protrude from the fastenings, unscrewing. His breath came out in one long exhale once the screw from the toilet fitting dropped into his palm. He loosened the bolt from the nut and tucked it back into his sock. The toilet jutted from the wall. When he moved it slightly to peak behind he saw that only 3 cinder blocks sloppily held together with crumbling cement backed the toilet. He slid it back into place.

* * *

18/01/2007

When he brandished the screw of the toilet to Kuroo the next day he was met with delighted surprise. “I was wrong about you.” He admitted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Seems you  _ are _ more competent than you let on.”

Akaashi chuckled, relishing in the praise but shrugging off the compliment as if it were nothing, and that he didn’t see a man die in order for the task to work. Kuroo looked quietly mesmerized by him for a moment before averting his gaze elsewhere, and Akaashi noted that his ears, past the bedhead, had gone red. “It’s not the end, yet.” He pointed, nodding his head to Oikawa and his lackeys hoisting cement bags into a wheelbarrow. “So long as I can manage to wheedle those two favours out of Oikawa-san, we should be ready and set.”

“We don’t exactly  _ have _ a lot of time.” Kuroo stated, to what Akaashi rolled his eyes. “I’m just being honest, even if it is obvious.”

“The tortoise and the hare. Didn’t your mama always tell you that only fools rush in?”

“Well.” Kuroo trailed off, scratching the back of his head with a smile. The expression dropped as he regarded a figure walking towards them with the same lazy eyes and dark curls Akaashi had seen days prior. He steeled himself as the figure paused a metre or so away, scratching the back of his head, as if he was bored. “Oikawa wants you.” He said plainly, not sparing a glance to Kuroo, who openly scrutinizing the other. Akaashi’s eyes briefly flickered to Kuroo, who shrugged. With little hesitation he trailed after the taller man who watched Akaashi from the corner of his eye. “I saw what you took.” He said bluntly once they were out of earshot and rounding the corner to the fence and gate, leading towards the workhouse. “That shiv, from that kid’s hand. That’s sick.”

Akaashi said nothing. The other’s eyes shifted to Akaashi and he was almost sure he heard him chuckle before he was nudged inside the workhouse. It was piled high with wheelbarrows, gardening and bricklaying tools, cement bags and cobwebs across the walls. There, among from the crowd of three sat Oikawa, perched on a workbench with his fingers laced over the knee. He met Akaashi with a severe grin, and behind him Matsukawa shut the door. It was but him, Oikawa, Akaashi, and a man with a bleach buzzcut. “How nice of you to join us, Akaashi-kun.”

“It was against my will.” Akaashi reflected, adjusting the cuffs of his denim jacket. Oikawa’s tongue darted across his lips in a quick, pink motion before he patted the workbench he was sitting on, smoothing dust off of the empty space next to him. Akaashi met him with a weary look before moving over to the spot and carefully hoisting himself up. When he looked back to Oikawa he saw that the carefully calculated smile had dropped, and instead he was bizarrely expressionless; unreadable, and dangerously unpredictable.

“This little polka you and I’ve been doing for a while…” He trailed off, dropping a hand to Akaashi’s thigh. His thumb caressed the innermost seam of the fabric. “As of this moment; it’s over. Kageyama:” Once again spoken as a statement instead of a question, needing no reply. “I want to know how you got to him. And where he is, right now.”

If the brevity of the situation wasn’t so obvious he would’ve toyed with the information. As it was, Akaashi was not a stupid man. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa quirked his brow in a silent question, to what Akaashi met blankly, uninterested, before he sighed, sounding resigned. Oikawa pushed himself straighter on the workbench and motioned with his hand for the men to his left and right. Akaashi had little time to think before the hand on his thigh was being held down by both of Oikawa’s palms, skirting towards his groin, and the blonde from his left gathered Akaashi around the shoulders in a painful headlock. He didn’t retaliate until he watched the darker man from across the room pick up what looked like a pair of large shears, crusted rust outlining the blades. Akaashi squirmed and kicked his foot out, to what Oikawa dug an elbow into the soft tissue of his thigh and a burst of uncomfortable pain shot up through Akaashi. He grew red in alarm. Momentarily paralyzed, the man brandishing the garden shears pulled off Akaashi’s boot and sock and fitted the valley between both blades over Akaashi’s small toe, fitting like a wrench over a bolt. 

“Now, I’m going to count to three.” Oikawa announced, moving one hand up to stroke the dark curls that clung to the sweat gathered on Akaashi’s forehead. “One…”

“If I give you that information I’m a dead man.” Akaashi blurted, eyes darting to meet Oikawa’s, who was poised but an inch or so away. Akaashi could feel the warm ghost of his breath against his chin as Oikawa pressed the hair from his hairline and swept it back. “You know it, and I know it.”

“Two…”

Akaashi squirmed in increasingly growing dread. The man clutching the shears looked frankly bored, as if he didn’t want to be there. He adjusted his grip on the handles which pierced the blades just slightly into the joint of his toe. “I’ll tell you the moment we’re outside those walls, and not a second before.”

“You tell me  _ now. _ ” Oikawa threatened, gathering the hair between his fingers and dragging Akaashi’s head back so his throat was bared. His Adam’s apple jutted in the curve of his neck and his heart hammered underneath the frail, honey coloured surface. Akaashi considered his poor deck of cards, clenching his eyes shut as he braced impact.

“Not going to happen, Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa gathered the hairs tighter until Akaashi was convinced they’d snap under the sheer force they were held at. His scalp burned, and his breaths were frantic. “Hey.” He called, sliding his hand up Akaashi’s thigh in favour of cradling his jaw. “I’m going to give you one last chance.” Akaashi opened his eyes to meet Oikawa’s large, brown ones that loomed all too close for comfort. His glare was challenging. Without the information that hung above Oikawa’s neck like a guillotine he had nothing of value to offer. It was priceless, he’d decided, and without the ace up his sleeve he was as much value as physical currency in this place. Akaashi narrowed his eyes before spitting on Oikawa’s face. The other’s expression went blank as he registered what had just happened, before he inhaled what sounded like a breath to calm the insatiable fire that burned in his stomach of pure mortification.

“Three.”

A sickening crunch reverberated through Akaashi’s spine, a shockwave of gut-churning electricity shooting upwards as if he’d been struck by lighting, towards his neck. He wailed behind his clenched teeth and arched painfully, thrashing against the blonde holding him with brutal force as Oikawa watched, wiping the spit from his face.  A white-hot wave of heat washed over Akaashi before it grew dangerously cool, and he may have blacked out before the second wave of excruciating pain swallowed him whole; he couldn’t remember. He sucked in a heaving breath before growing lax against the wooden workbench, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes from the sheer intensity of the throbbing at his foot. 

“Mattsun, get the bag.” Oikawa ordered. The man dropped the pliers and held open what looked to be a half-empty sandbag underneath the steady flow of blood drooling from Akaashi’s foot. He felt bile burn a hole in his throat but willed himself through the swaying fog of his consciousness to at least keep what he had left of his dignity and swallow it down. 

“Oikawa?” A voice echoed. “What the fuck is this?”

The hand in his hair and the fingers skimming his jawline suddenly disappeared, as did the warmth of his figure next to Akaashi on the bench. Through the stars bursting at the corners of his eyes and the fading darkness swarming his vision he watched the man from the yard earlier storm inside and toss his wheelbarrow to the side in favour of gathering Oikawa up by the lapels of his coat. 

“What the  _ fuck _ did you do?!” He demanded, flint eyes furious as they bore holes into Oikawa.

Oikawa braced himself on either shoulder, petting the skin, as if taming a wild animal. “Nothing, Iwa-chan. Why're you here?” He reassured, casting a glance to Akaashi, who had gone rigid against Kyoutani.

“ _ Nothing? _ ” Iwaizumi barked. He shoved Oikawa back and picked up a rag from the side, swiping the blood from the wooden workbench. “You told me you’d get him in here to talk! Not to fucking kill him, you stupid boy!” Oikawa watched him, uncharacteristically hurt, as Iwaizumi moved over to Akaashi and slapped him on the cheek to wake him up. Akaashi barely moved, fingers tightening and relaxing and tightening again in Kyoutani’s forearm. When he turned back around to regard Oikawa he was red with fury. “You fucking idiot. Look what you’ve landed yourself in here.” 

“You refused to take action!” Oikawa argued, brows pulled together in offence, pretty face contorted in an ugly expression of anger.

“And look where it got you!  _ Fuck,  _ Tooru!” Iwaizumi exclaimed, running his fingers through his hair with a growl. The ringing in Akaashi’s head drowned out what argument seemed to be taking place in the centre of the room. He gripped at the fingers around his throat, struggling to stay afloat in the cotton sea conscious as the blood loss dragged him into cold darkness. 

 

* * *

The smell that brought him back to his senses was clean and sterile, and the lights were piercing, blinding. For a second he wondered whether or not he’d died.

“Mr. Akaashi.” A voice from across the room greeted. Said voice was donned in white with delicate features and floral-scented perfume. She flicked a vial, hovering between both bed and cabinet. With a start he sat up violently in the crisp sheets to regard the room around him in abhorrence.  _ The infirmary. _ Just as the blueprints and personal statements had suggested it wasn’t as run-down as the rest of Karasuno was, but pristine white, maintained of course by the ever attentive Dr. Kiyoko. It slightly smaller than a standard classroom. “Can you hear what I’m saying?”

“Yes.” Akaashi replied numbly. He glanced down at his hands to see that they were crusted with dried blood and dirt, and that his shirt and trousers were dry but hardened where red had soaked through. There was a thick bandage cocooning his foot.

“You took quite the tumble earlier.” She remarked, flicking through some papers held to a clipboard. Her voice, despite the condescending tone, was as gentle as a mothers; Akaashi understood Bokuto’s admiration of her. “Apparently, Mr. Akaashi, you stepped on a pair of pliers. Huh.” She remarked, glancing at Akaashi over her thin spectacles from the other side of the room, who merely shrugged.

“Can’t remember.”

“Well, for both of our sake I hope it’s merely  _ was _ an accident.” She concludes, putting the clipboard back onto the desk with a soft clink. Akaashi watched as she crossed the room and gathered a stack of papers from the side table by the door, to what she tapped them neatly and appropriately tucked them away in the filing cabinet. “I don’t suppose you’d like to share any other reasons as to why your boot and sock were found inside the shed, unharmed from the pliers?”

“Do you offer doctor’s confidentiality?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Then, no.” Akaashi laced his fingers together over his stomach. She sighed at the final reply and shook her head, muttering something under her breath before shifting to the other side of the room, where she’d been prescribing medication and completing prescriptions. Akaashi allowed his eyes to wander, seeking out the window just to her left which overlooked the wall of the prison and the guard tower. If he squinted Akaashi could make out a thick power cord running from one side to the other, about three inches wide. The brackets on the window were aged, and the glass itself was without blemish. To it’s right, at the corner of the room, sat a drain. Akaashi had to assume it was the same one that lead out into the courtyard. Like he’d predicted it was no bigger than 4 feet wide, shorter length-ways but appropriate for them to slide through, when needed.

_ If only I had those toothpaste tubes.  _ Akaashi remarked bitterly, shifting in the cot as to not aggravate the bandaged foot, which he had no doubt he was relying on heavy pain medication for if the heaviness of his skull was any indication. The clock read 6pm. He’d missed lunch and afternoon recess.  _ Oikawa still hadn’t gotten the answer he wanted.  _ At least that was comforting.

 

* * *

19/01/2007

“I’m going to  _ kill _ that scum.” Kuroo spat, jostling at the chain links with evident fury.

“You won’t.” Akaashi interjected, having returned to standard P.I. duty just the next day. He raked the leaves littered across Karasuno’s yard and winced audibly at each step, breathing through his teeth. “You kill him; you kill our express ticket out of here.”

“Look what he did to you.” Kuroo’s tone was scathing, murderous. “You’re not gonna last a second in this place unless I do something about it. Fucking  _ hell,  _ Akaashi.” He pushed himself backwards and ran his fingers through his hair. Akaashi wondered if that was how he maintained the bizarre hairstyle in the first place. 

He promptly ignored him for a moment, allowing Kuroo to cool his heat off. Then, he prompted: “You ever heard of  _ Top Flight Charters?” _

He faltered in confusion. “Yeah?”

“They operate flights from small airfields across the Midwest. Like the one ten miles from here. They’re run by a shell corporation Oikawa owns. We get him on board, there’ll be a midnight flight waiting for us outside those walls.”

“I  _ knew _ it wasn’t just P.I. you wanted.” Kuroo remarked, brows furrowing in what looked like strange betrayal. “ _ You’re willing to risk the entire escape on a guy you don’t even know?” _

“Preparation can only take you so far. After that you’ve got to take a few leaps of faith.”

Kuroo jostled the fence once more before spitting at his feet and stepping backwards, dragging his palms through his tousled hair for the second time. “Oikawa’s a huge  _ leap of faith _ , Akaashi.”

“I’m not talking about Oikawa-san. It’s Iwaizumi-san who owns the companyーor at least has shares in it, either way. All I needed was to get one of their attentions as it is. And seeing as the two possess the brains and the brawn in the relationship, I figured one would be easier to convince than two.” Akaashi replied. “There’s another person that holds the whole key to this plan. With him it either works, or it doesn’t.”

On cue, as timed, two guards exited the main building, an inmate walking between them with a delighted grin, even if his hands were handcuffed. The air around him suddenly lightened, and the sun seemed to shine a little brighter.

“Koutarou?” Kuroo questioned incredulously.

Akaashi watched Bokuto as he enlightened both guards, who seemed to have tuned out his incessant rambling long before exiting the main building, rounding a corner. Other than the fact his hair was down flat, almost brushing his chin, he still resembled the man Akaashi had first met seven days ago. “We’re going to have to take him. He’s my cellmate.”

Kuroo watched the three disappear into another building separate to the main one, to most likely return his appropriate clothing and unfasten the handcuffs from his wrists after the painful six days in the SHU. “How well  _ do _ you know him?”

“Not as well as a man can in a week. But I know he’s a multimillionaire, and I know that money is needed to disappear out of a place like this.” 

Kuroo neared the fence again, rattling it to gain Akaashi’s attention. He fixed him with a glare that spoke thunderous volumes. “If we take him he’ll tell Suga...we’re done. Y’know that, right?”

Akaashi took a step forward and sucked in a sharp breath through his nose at the throbbing pressure of his foot. He leaned against the rake for balance and momentary relief from the fierce ache in his leg. “If we don’t get him on board there won’t be any digging in that cell. And if there’s no digging in that cell, then there’s no escape.” The reasoning was simple, but even Akaashi seemed apprehensive. “He’s prone to emotional outburstsーdid you know he’s on two types of anti-psychotics? My best guess is that he’s managed to stay out of that mental institution via. illegal contraband.”

“I don’t think it’s a wise move to try and bring him, Akaashi.” Kuroo stated, toeing carefully around what appropriate words to use. “As far as I’m aware he’s been here most his life. I don’t think he wants out. I asked him about it, and he told me he’d rather not. He’s scared, I think, of being in an unfamiliar environment.”

“It doesn’t matter ‘what he wants’. The truth of the matter is that if he’s a shareholder of information like this then he’s a powerful man behind these walls. He needs to be equal to the rest of us. If he knows he’ll drop himself in the shit along with everyone else if a word gets out, my hope is he’ll stay just a little quieter.”

“And you think that’ll work?”

Akaashi pursed his lips. “I don’t know.” He admitted, slowly. “I can’t quite figure him out. Do you know how he arrived here to begin with?”

Kuroo’s eyes narrowed, brows pulling together before his face relaxed into startled surprise. “Well, now that I think about it, no. I don’t. I hadn’t thought of asking him. He seems too…”

“Nice?” 

“Yeah. Or, at least he doesn’t seem like he has the heart to do anything cruel.”

“There isn’t much about him online, in newspapers nor online news sources.” Akaashi said, crossing his arms. “I know he’s wealthy, and that he’s been here an awfully long time, so of  _ course _ I’m anxious to add him to the plan. But he’s the only one who has access to the nurse’s office on a regular basis. I think he’s simple, Kuroo. I was looking through his books, and I think he was teaching himself how to read and write. Maybe he wants out, just as much as the rest of us. I think...I think it’d be nice to see him experience what it’s like to live outside the bars of a prison.”

Kuroo’s gaze was taken abackーthe way his eyes were rounder than usual, jaw slack, brow raised. “Wow.” He remarked, tilting his head as the expression morphed into one of appreciation, and he laughed. “Yeah, me too.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god this is incredibly long. yea uhh its 4am and i do apologise for OOC kunimi. i wanted to have a grungier and nastier approach to the hq boys in this fic so i DO apologise to the tendou stans out there. i love him but hes based off of t-bag from prison break whos a cunt. *dab* accept the work i haven't spellchecked and feel free to roast me.
> 
> also the song describes oikawa well in this au i think :)

**Author's Note:**

> *** updates aren't regular, nor scheduled ***


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